


The Moonlighters

by Charulean_Waters, MiddayGiggle



Series: The Moonlighters [1]
Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attorney!Kieran, Chapter count could change, Character Death, Criminal Justice Mystery AU, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Far too many formal events but none of us is complaining, Justice, Kieran is not an assasin but he's still miserable, Kym is Kym, Lauren remains same old Lauren but she's a prosecutor now, Law, Law Enforcement, Law and Mafia AU, Lila is a sweetheart, Lukas was finally arrested for presumed murder lmao, Lula is married, Lune action HELL YEAH, Mafia AU, Morally Ambiguous Character, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Past Abuse, Poisoning, Prosecutor!Lauren, Romance, SIMP!Kieran, There's no Phantom Scythe but there's mafias, This was created in under a week we have no self control, Thriller, What's new in that, Will is still T I R E D, badass female characters, destroying characters' beliefs is our aesthetic, mafia, mafia ties, mentions of trauma, slowburn, so many plot twists idk what the plot is anymore, sometimes, well kinda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 121,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charulean_Waters/pseuds/Charulean_Waters, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiddayGiggle/pseuds/MiddayGiggle
Summary: Moonlighter (n): a person who holds a second job (usually after hours)Following a gruesome murder, a passionate prosecutor and a renowned defense attorney face off in the courtroom in a case where all evidence appears to point against the defendant. However, events are never as simple as they seem, and as evidence and corruption unravel, the truth appears to glisten more dangerously in the darkness than anyone could have ever imagined.
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White, Lila Desroses/Lukas "Grumpy Cat" Randall, William Hawkes/Kym Ladell
Series: The Moonlighters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956586
Comments: 461
Kudos: 346





	1. Mysterious Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter of The Moonlighters!   
> 

“K ym, it’s literally 6:30 in the morning, can you let me have at least fifteen more minutes of serenity?”

For all William Hawkes knew, Kym never needed coffee to be her usual bubbly, loud, _irritating_ self, even as the chilly autumn air chilled their cheeks while the sun rose sleepily. He couldn’t remember a single occasion in which she needed coffee to stay awake. He couldn’t even imagine what it’d be like if she got high on caffeine. Terrifying, most likely.

“Hurry along, _Willame_ , the citizens of Ardhalis City are counting on us! We still have to get our paperwork approved by Hermann…” Kym hummed, twirling on her spot as she imitated a ballerina. While he had once hoped she would fall onto the hard concrete, he had gradually grown accustomed to her boundless enthusiasm. He now felt guilty for such petty thoughts. “Hopefully, he’s not in the office yet, I hid my watermelon in the fridge last night before we left, and I want it for breakfast...you know how Hermann feels about my love for watermelon.”

As she bounced down the hallway, turning on _all_ the lights as she went, much to the exasperation of her Lieutenant, William tried to force himself to relax and maintain a _professionally positive_ outlook on life when Kym suddenly groaned and skidded to a stop before Hermann’s office. Before he could even ask her what was wrong, she dramatically crumpled to the ground, moaning something about her watermelon babies. Approaching the heap on the floor, he noticed Hermann’s slightly cracked door and flickering light. Hermann was surprisingly frugal for a man who made such a good salary and had insisted on keeping his old, flickering lamp instead of buying a new one.

When Kym finally got up and retrieved the paperwork that needed to be signed from her bag, since Hermann didn’t acknowledge her calls, she nudged the captain’s door open. To say the least, they didn’t expect what they saw. Hermann was sitting with his head tilted back, over the edge of his chair, legs and hands both crossed in an image of peaceful slumber. 

“Well, I suppose the citizens of Ardhalis will have to wait until after breakfast,” Kym shrugged. As she turned to leave the room, she discovered that Will had already started padding towards Hermann. The light had flickered off. “Will, I think he’s asleep. We can come back later, and didn’t you mention something about fixing the coffee machine before Lukas got back to the-”

“I...I don’t think he’s asleep. I don’t think he’s asleep, Kym,” panic was creeping into Will’s voice.

Kym huffed and stepped back into the room. “What do you mean he’s not asleep? What else could he be doing? Meditating?”

“His eyes are _open_ , Kym, come look at this. They’re bloodshot as well, and his mouth is gaping-” Will swatted at Kym as she tried to touch Hermann’s face. “What in the _world_ are you doing, Ladell?! Did the Academy not teach you not to contaminate any potential evidence?”

“Well, I’m _sorry_ I spent my time practicing my shooting instead of sitting in your boring lectures _Willame_ , there’s no need to get all unsettled over the fact that I’m the better sh-” Kym halted in her speech as she took, _finally_ , a good look at Hermann. As if illuminating her brain, the lamp on Hermann’s desk flickered back on. “Wait, you’re right, he’s not-”

“He’s dead!” Will gasped, pulling away the hand that had searched for the captain’s pulse. Kym stepped away from the corpse, dread clawing at her heart and squeezing as she realized the man was _actually dead_.

“Will, Hermann is _dead_!”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Kym!”

“We need to call the police-”

A beat of confused silence passed.

Will gaped at her. “Kym, _we are the police_! Do you realize the gravity of the situation?”

Will could see the embarrassment in Kym’s eyes but decided to let it be. She had her eyes wide and her face, which was naturally rather pale, was white as a paper sheet as the reality of the situation hit her like a truck. Will tried to approach her but stumbled upon something that produced an unsettling _thump_. Kym looked down.

“Hold on...is that another leg under Hermann?”

When she took a closer look, Lukas Randall was wedged between the legs of Hermann’s chair and his mahogany desk, completely unconscious, and Kym promptly screamed as she bolted outside of the room, followed closely by Will as they hurried towards the forensics department.

* * *

“Yes, I’m aware. The files should be on the left side of my desk. Correct. Alright, I’ll see you in a bit.”

After she hung up, Lauren Sinclair dropped her head and groaned, kneading her eyes as if she could erase the evidence of her sleepless night from them. How had sleep managed to evade her the entire night? Since she had started working at the District Attorney’s office, she couldn’t remember a singular night where she had _truly rested_ without either being disturbed by her unending supply of work or her troubling dreams. It wasn’t as if she was unfamiliar with the feeling. Ever since her parents died, and Dylan shortly after, she had rarely ever had the chance to sleep a whole night. No, she knew the feeling. One didn’t graduate early from law school without pulling multiple all-nighters.

Before she could ponder her insomnia any longer, however, her uncle knocked gently on her half-open door, a plate of blueberry pancakes in hand and a comforting smile on his face.

“Good morning, Uncle Tristan, it’s incredibly kind of you to bring me breakfast to my office,” she mumbled, still rather tired, but smiled and accepted the offer of breakfast.

“Well, even the busiest of us need their nutrition. Remember to take care of yourself, dear, we wouldn’t want you coming down with something from lack of sleep, either.”

Tristan Sinclair, the District Attorney of Ardhalis City proper, was a soft-spoken man with eyes and hair of equally soft browns. Despite it all, he was imposing. His stance, his gestures while talking, and the way he raised his voice only when necessary made him someone who could silence a revolt with his words only. It was no surprise that he held the title of District Attorney. And though he had a schedule busier than Lauren’s, he still found the time to make sure that his niece was well-fed before heading to work every morning.

As she chewed gratefully on the fluffy pancakes, Tristan handed her a clean, fresh-pressed blouse that Lucy had just washed the previous night before stepping out of Lauren’s office. Striding down the hallway, he called out that he likely wouldn’t see her today due to the multiple meetings in his schedule that would eventually run late into the evening. Lauren yelled her farewells as he retreated. Since both uncle and niece were incredibly busy with their work, Lucy and the other maids had become their household support, cleaning, washing the laundry, and cooking Lauren’s favorite pancakes three times a week. They simply refused to cook them more than that, claiming that the sugary treats would be bad for Lauren’s health if she had them any more than that. Lucy had practically become Lauren’s godmother, having been part of the staff since Lauren’s childhood, which made her particularly concerned at Lauren’s apparent disregard for her own well-being.

As she shut the door to change for work, Lauren sighed and breathed in the soothing smell of blueberries that continued to linger in the room. She loved it. Scanning her room for her heels while slipping on the blouse, she sighed at the mess. While Lauren had the neatest office anyone could find, her bedroom was far from pristine, and drove even Lauren herself mad. She mentally apologized to the poor maid who’d have to clean it today. What was the point of cleaning an area that she barely ever used? She didn’t even have time these days to sleep in her bed, spending most of her nights slumped over her desk. _That won’t be changing anytime soon._

“Work-life balance, they say,” she grumbled to no one in particular. Lauren couldn’t recall the last time she could distinguish the end of the workday and the start of her weekend.

After slipping on a dark grey pencil skirt that was ironed and laid out near her chair, she snatched her coat off the hanger and hurried out the front door, auburn hair whipping behind her in the cool autumn air. If she stayed any longer, she wouldn’t get to the office early enough to give the secretary those files on her desk. Hailing a cab, she slipped into the backseat and gave the driver directions to the district attorney’s office downtown. She exchanged smiles with the driver through the rearview mirror. With no further interaction, they were off to the streets of Ardhalis Main that grew increasingly congested as the morning progressed.

As she took a rattling tin of bobby pins out of her purse, she started combing her messy hair into a low bun with her hands. Surrendering to the fiery locks that had a personality no weaker than their owner’s, she tugged a mini comb that she always kept in her bag to smooth out the lumps in her hair. Pinning her bun in place with one hand, she dug around her surprisingly organized purse to look for a tube of lipstick. 

Lauren rarely applied any makeup other than lipstick and concealer, making for a relatively easy beauty process compared to some of her other coworkers. Kym always told her she didn’t need much aside from that, seeing as her eyes, of a _pensive aureate_ (she loved to tease Lauren about it) looked even better without the common distractor of eyeliner or mascara.

When she had already gotten halfway to the office, she discovered that she was so busy this morning she hadn’t even had the time to grab a coffee. Sighing, she tucked her scarf into her bag to escape the stuffiness of the cab. Coffee shop, then. Lauren glanced down at her watch, which was running ahead by a couple minutes. _I’ll have to adjust that during today’s meeting later_. She, thankfully, had enough time to grab a hot latte before heading into the office for the day.

“Thank you, sir, please keep the change,” she smiled to the driver, who thanked her and drove off after leaving her in front of the office. She strode for the nearest coffee shop, a quaint little place on the same block, and ordered the first drink she found with the word “latte” at the end. Lauren would never understand why coffeeshops insisted on creating drinks with near-incomprehensible names. She didn’t really know much about coffee, but heaven forbid someone tried to get on her nerves before the first shot of her daily caffeine.

* * *

When Detective March finally arrived at the scene, Kym had already lost all her appetite for watermelon and was scrutinizing the unconscious form of Officer Lukas Randall, who was sprawled underneath the captain’s desk, thankfully, alive. As the forensic examiner gingerly removed the glass vial that was clutched in Lukas’ hand, Detective March slipped on his gloves and badge, and carefully stepped around Hermann’s desk and asked the forensic examiner already at the scene what he had found.

The nurse interrupted as she barged inside the room, clutching her medical briefcase as the investigation unit worked to move Lukas to the hallway where the nurse would thoroughly examine the fallen officer.

Grace stepped closer to March as her companion, Andrew, took a sample of the foam dripping from the Captain’s mouth and poured it into a vial.

“Poison,” Grace declared, fidgeting with her sleeves as she glanced back at the corpse. “From the symptoms and approximate death time I can narrow it down, but I couldn’t tell so easily.”

Andrew drew back with a scrunched nose. “There are no open wounds of any sort. The captain choked to death without being able to fight back. Probably had convulsions, based on the state of his desk.”

“We found a syringe,” one of the detectives piped up, Holding the aforementioned already inside a plastic bag. Grace frowned at it and returned to her spot next to Hermann, examining him again. She pressed a finger to the side of his neck. A tiny droplet of blood stained her gloves, and upon closer examination, she discovered the place where he had been injected.

“Directly to the bloodstream,” she declared. “Must have been potent enough for it to act in a matter of a couple hours.”

“There are fingerprints here,” March claimed, examining the syringe.

“There are fingerprints in the vial as well, the one we found in Officer Randall’s hand,” another detective said.

Kym, standing with Will right outside the office and listening to the examination, covered her mouth to fight the urge to gag. Will noticed and turned to her. She had yet to fully recover the color of her cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

Kym shook her head. “This is horrible. How could this happen within the precinct? In the captain’s office, of all places,” she shuddered. “Harvey two months ago, with the viper venom; now Hermann… You know, I never liked him much, but to see him _dead_ , in such a horrible way…”

Will placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. After the discovery of Harvey Wood’s bloody corpse in a janitor closet two months prior, he had noticed that the Sergeant was actually as sensible to death scenes as any other sane person; while she didn’t run off this time, seeing her react like any other person terrified him more than her usual dark humor or terrible jokes in murders that’d make him question her sanity. Her words of that day still lingered on his head:

_ Superheroes die too. _

Lukas jolted awake from his spot on the hallway floor, startling the poor nurse into oblivion. The usually brooding officer looked unusually awake as he looked around the area, like searching for something or someone. March rushed outside at the gasp of the nurse.

“Officer Randall! You’re awake! Did you-”

“Is he dead?” Lukas muttered, something dark clouding his gaze. He usually had a dark cloud hovering over him, but what filled his eyes... Kym shuddered. Lukas coughed a bit before asking again: “Is Hermann dead?”

The place fell silent for a second, and then March asked, frowning:

“What were you even doing in the crime scene, Officer?”

Lukas stared, but otherwise said and did nothing. Will exchanged a look with March, his lips twisting into a worried expression as realization slowly poured upon Kym. Really, what was Lukas doing in the office, with the vial in his hand? No, scratch that. She wanted to forget it. She wanted to ignore the signals; for what she knew, it could be a mistake, a red herring.

But as the APD, they couldn’t take any risks.

“Officer Lukas Randall, you’re under arrest,” Will began, whispering the words as if it hurt him to say them any louder. Lukas seemed to be expecting it as he stood up and turned around for Will to handcuff him. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court-”

“I didn’t do it, Hawkes,” Lukas muttered, but put up no resistance.

Interrupting his obligatory recitation of the Miranda warning, Will swallowed. “Well, then there’s nothing to worry about, Lukas.”

Kym stepped back against the wall as Will stated Lukas’ rights and watched as her fellow officer was led away. The situation had escalated beyond what she could’ve imagined. Not only was the Captain of her Precinct dead, but one of her officers was suspected to be the murderer.

Yes, superheroes die.

But superheroes can become villains too.

* * *

Kieran White was horrible at time management. Or so his secretary liked to say. Which was, mind you, also the very reason he had a secretary, to begin with.

When he had woken up that morning, hair as tangled as the sheets he was in, he was greeted by the sound of his phone ringing off of its stand. He groggily reached over to murmur a husky “good morning, Kieran White speaking” into the receiver, and was greeted with his ears vibrating at the sound of Lila Desroses’ annoyed, yet somehow still bubbly, voice.

“Well, Mr. White, it sounds like someone was able to have his beauty sleep,” quipped Lila sarcastically. Oddly, her sarcasm still sounded like a legitimate and kind greeting to someone.

“How kind of you Ms. Desroses, to give me such a pleasant wake-up call,” Kieran sat up, rubbing his eyes. “May I ask why you’re calling me this early in the morning? I just got to bed three hours ago.”

“Kieran, what are you babbling about?” _What could I possibly have forgotten this time around?_ “It’s already seven o’clock. Did you forget that you had to be at the courthouse by 8:30 this morning for the first case? Please tell me you’ve at least gotten out of bed-”

_Oh. That’s what I forgot._ Suddenly jolted into complete consciousness, Kieran swung his legs off the side of the bed and tucked his feet into his soft robin’s egg-colored slippers. Rubbing his eyes and ruffling his hair, he assured Lila that he was indeed out of bed.

“Just about ready to leave the apartment, in fact,” he attempted to convince her while hurriedly rifling through his closet for his dark blue suit, straining the cord of the telephone as he dragged with him the receiver. His white button-down had thankfully been ironed last night, but he could not find his blasted navy tie anywhere.

Lila, used to his antics, sighed through the phone and reminded him to hurry and to not waste more time brewing his own tea as she had already bought him a cup. It seemed he had apparently complained about the tie out loud since she murmured: “It’s in the bottom right drawer, behind the grey striped one and the maroon one,” before hanging up with a delicate _click._

_What would I ever do without Lila,_ Kieran wondered as he quickly combed through his hair and slipped on his watch. Kieran always opted for a simple white ribbon to keep his hair at bay. After a while, he stopped bothering with the bangs that would eventually make their way to his eyes. Running his hands through his hair in frustration would eventually pull them all out of whatever he put his hair in anyway. While this didn’t make the strongest impression on new judges, those who knew him slowly gained a begrudging admiration for the suave defense attorney who was always impeccably dressed with a silk ribbon, often of white or black, in his hair.

Oh, if only they saw him once he was back home. He’d yank off the tie and pop the buttons open as soon as he stepped inside.

Briefcase swinging in hand, he patted his pockets for his keys and wallet. Following the unfortunate event where he was locked out of his apartment in the meek hours of the morning after a long evening at the firm, he had always kept three sets of keys: one in his pockets, one in his briefcase, and one which he gave to Lila. He figured that with so many sets of keys, one was bound to end up letting him into the place that lovingly contained his bed.

Due to his long nights at work, Kieran had chosen to live near the building of the firm, which allowed him to conveniently collect a few files that he had left on his office desk the night before. Locking the office door behind him, he started descending along the marble staircase that winded around the building. Waving a simple goodbye at the doorman, he cursed when a blast of chilly air coursed through him, wrapping his scarf around in a hurry as he gestured wildly for a cab.

Luckily for him, the Ardhalis Superior Court was less than fifteen minutes away. While Lila didn’t believe his proximity to his secondary workplace was an adequate excuse for refusing to get out of bed before she would call him, it certainly prevented him from missing his court dates. He bounded up the stairs of the courthouse (in a very unprofessional manner, mind you, but desperate times call for desperate measures), and managed to slip through the rapidly growing security line filled with attorneys and citizens alike. 

Stepping into the courthouse’s main lobby, Kieran was all but attacked by a short-haired woman who smelled of cinnamon. His secretary always had perfectly styled curls, a pressed long-sleeved blouse with a ribbon tied in the front, and a pleated tea-length skirt, which on this day happened to be black. Thrusting his tea into his hand, which he gratefully received, she began to lecture him on the importance of punctuality as they stepped into an elevator.

“Kieran, the hearing literally starts in ten minutes, how do you manage to make the worst impression on the judge and jury every single time? Does punctuality not have a place in your dictionary? For a man who insists on a _spotless_ apartment and office, you sure have interesting priorities,” scolded Lila. Luckily, his secretary’s voice was always soft and bubbly even at her angriest, and she kept a nice smile as she whispered her lecture to Kieran. Nobody in the stuffy elevator was aware of the attorney currently being lectured like a petulant child who had forgotten to do the dishes.

“I’m here Ms. Desroses, do you truly enjoy my presence to this degree?” 

“We still have to check in with the clerk and get situated,” stated Lila as they stepped out of the elevator.

“We are but 30 seconds from the door of the room, Lila. If the judge isn’t there yet, we’re early!”

“Luckily for you, Kieran, you only have misdemeanor cases today until after lunch. There is also no jury for any of these, which I am sure you already know,” Lila recited from her notebook, glancing around the courtroom every few minutes as Kieran checked in with the clerk before sitting down at the counsel table. Lila waved over his first client to where she sat in the audience seating area directly behind Kieran’s chair. He turned around to remind his first client what they would be doing today, then spun back around as the judge rose to the bench. 

Standing up and leaning backward towards Lila in a manner suggesting that he was simply stretching, he whispered: “Lila, I’m out of loose leaf earl grey...would you kindly order some more?”

The size of Kieran White’s tea obsession gave his ego a run for its money. The defense attorney was simply incapable of being productive without drinking his favorite earl grey tea latte. He wasn’t the fondest of the bitter taste of coffee, which meant that he had to acquire his daily dose of caffeine from tea. According to Lila, he became extremely irritable and snappish when he was deprived of it. Thank goodness she had remembered to bring him a cup this morning. There was no time to brew his own at home, and he wouldn’t put it past himself to simply refuse to enter the courtroom without having his tea first.

Shaking her head in exasperation about the attorney who was so sure of his abilities he’d rather discuss his stock of favorite beverage rather than the case at hand, she simply shrugged her delicate shoulders in indifference, mouthing an _I’ll think about it_ at him.

As the hearing began, Kieran was forced to put his aromatic obsession aside. Cracking his knuckles underneath the worn oak table and putting on a charming mask, Kieran was ready to face the judge. It was _go time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for joining us at the beginning of our journey! The Moonlighters was a brainchild created by Charmaine (that was casually incubated for approximately 3 months) and MiddayGiggle. We thank those in the Discord server that encouraged us to give this idea a shot!


	2. Serene Suspect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “I refuse,” Lukas muttered, as composed as ever despite having his wrists cuffed in front of him.
>> 
>> “Excuse me?”
>> 
>> “I wish to exercise my right to legal counsel,” said Lukas. “I want to call my attorney. I won’t say anything until he’s here.”
>> 
>> _Well, then._  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So this was supposed to go into last chapter, but because Charmaine is **F U R B R A I N E D** , she forgot (even though she was the one who drafted this prior to the release). _
>
>> We would like to specially acknowledge **thumbipeach** , the author of _An Affair of Consequence and Amity_ , for partially inspiring this work. We would also like to thank **Jane_Dorocak** , author of _Cinnamon Coffee_ , for reasons that will soon be (if not already are) obvious.
>> 
>> Additionally, we would like to acknowledge **rabbit_hearted, oblivioluna, intheKnickoftime, beautifuldisgrace,** and the numerous other talented writers in this community for their impeccable prose ~~and desire to beat a certain fic-count~~. Thank you to the reading community as well for being so encouraging!

To say the APD was a mess would be an understatement.

After Hermann’s corpse had been removed from the office and the office was sealed off to prevent contamination, March left the forensics unit to do their analysis. Heading towards the interrogation room that Lukas had been taken to, he was reminded by the pictures on the wall depicting the smiling precinct that this was by no means the way he planned to start his week. Stopping to stare at the face of Hermann in a formal shot, the lump in his throat exposed his shock. The captain was murdered in his own office mere months after officer Harvey Wood’s murder. Oh, kind, innocent Harvey. Killed in such a horrid way simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Passing Grace Riverhood and her partner, Andrew Lawes, in the hallway, he inquired about the progress on discovering what poison had killed the captain. The duo was known for being able to identify the symptoms and characteristics of almost any known poison and had greatly assisted the APD in narrowing down possible causes of death. Grace informed March that they had already written down a list of potential poisons based on the symptoms the captain exhibited and hoped the results would be in soon.

However, one thing was clear.

This had something to do with The Vipers.

The Vipers had been inciting terror among the citizens of Ardhalis for generations. One of the most powerful Families in Ardhalis, they had corrupted officials on all levels of the government administration. While never making public power moves, the organization controlled the city with invisible strings as puppeteers. They twisted events to their convenience for political or financial gain and had claimed countless victims, all with the same method: poison. The Vipers weren’t picky about how it was administered. Be it injected, ingested, or dripping from glinting blades, their trademark was poison, and the poison always created gruesome crime scenes. The ruling family of The Vipers had a particular affinity for Golden Viper Venom, which was used for their most serious assassinations. Operating under the guise of a medical research and development corporation, the APD had been unable to eliminate the infamous organization.

Now, poison could be bought. As far as the APD knew, the Vipers sold their horrifying creations to the highest bidder on the black market. No, the poison itself wasn’t what convinced March that their organization was involved in this particular murder. The reason he knew this one had been committed by the Vipers was because, long ago, they had used the exact same methods to brutally commit another murder.

Shaking the image of a girl with golden eyes out of his mind, Oliver March walked inside the interrogation room where Lukas was waiting. He could reminisce later.

“Officer Lukas Randall,” March breathed out, pulling out the chair in front of a one-way mirror. The young officer looked up with his usual dark expression, which truly didn’t help his case in this situation. “You know the drill, Officer. I’ll need to ask you some questions about why were you in the room, if-”

“I refuse,” Lukas muttered, as composed as ever despite having his wrists cuffed in front of him.

“Excuse me?”

“I wish to exercise my right to legal counsel,” said Lukas. “I want to call my attorney. I won’t say anything until he’s here.”

_Well, then._

March stood up, pushing his chair back in. “Of course, it is your right,” he made a gesture to the mirror. Was Detective Cooper lurking in the darkness behind it? He sure hoped it wasn’t the case, as the man was known for being incredibly difficult to talk to. “Please, let Officer Randall make his call. We’ll resume as soon as his attorney arrives.”

There was shuffling behind the mirror, and then a door closed. Being left truly alone, March turned to Lukas.

“For the record, Randall,” March smiled. “I believe in your innocence. Who are you calling?”

Lukas’ mouth turned upwards in what resembled a smirk as he replied:

“White.”

Maintaining an impartial expression and nodding his head imperceptibly, March stepped out of the room.

_Well, shit.  
_

* * *

“See, Lila? I told you there was absolutely nothing to worry about!” Kieran laughed as he stepped out of the elevator and into the reception area of his firm, followed by a slightly upset Lila, who unceremoniously dropped her purse at her own desk before following Kieran inside his office.

“You won’t always be this lucky, Kieran,” she stated exasperatedly, watching him suddenly sober up to keep his reputation in front of the passing attorneys. He, however, kept a poorly-hidden smile on his face. There was absolutely nothing that could erase the shit-eating grin off of his face after being proven right.

Kieran was quite content with how his day had progressed so far. While he had received a lecture from Lila, he also had won the two cases he had in the morning, and his cases in the afternoon were granted continuances. One of his cases was postponed due to excessive media coverage, while the other was granted a continuance because the newly-hired prosecutor had encountered difficulties finding an important witness.

 _When will the DA’s office start getting their act together? You don’t solve the issue of overworked prosecutors by hiring_ incompetent _ones._

“It’s not luck, sweetpea, it’s skill,” Kieran tugged on the tie and hung it in its usual place on the chair, under Lila’s disapproving gaze. The blazer had been long abandoned in the stool next to the door, and Lila huffed before taking it and folding it neatly so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

“Well, your _skill_ will not save you the day you arrive late for one of your client’s hearings.”

“But that has yet to happen!” Kieran laughed, moving to sit behind the desk. “And that’s exactly what I have you here, Lila.”

“I am your secretary, not your mother,” Lila huffed, striding across the room to retrieve an empty cup from Kieran’s desk.

Kieran shook his head in mild amusement as he tossed his briefcase haphazardly, which knocked into a meticulously organized stack of files. Slouching down, he groaned as he picked up the files to reorganize and return them to the desk. For all the tea he insisted on having, there were surprisingly no rings of liquid-damaged wood on his desk, all thanks to Lila’s brilliant idea (and, really, motherly, because who else comes up with these ideas?) of buying coasters of the exact same shade of brown of the desk. He recalled her calling numerous stores, asking for samples of their coasters to ensure they were the right color.

“If you know the layout of my closet, brew me tea, and fold my clothes,” started Kieran, pointing a glossy steel blue fountain pen with gold trim at Lila, “you’re either my wife, maid, or mother.”

“I am not, in any shape or form, your maid _or_ your mother, Mr. White,” Lila crossed her arms, pouting. Kieran laughed.

“Wife it is then!”

“Sometimes I really do feel like I have two husbands.” Lila turned towards her phone ringing on her desk and quickly made her way towards it. Retorting right before she picked up the phone to ensure Kieran wouldn’t be able to say anything else, she said “Let’s see what my _real_ husband has to say about it, later.”

She flicked her short hair to one side of her neck before answering.“This is the office of Kieran White. Lila Desroses speaking, how may I help you today?”

A beat of silence and a magnificent smile appeared on Lila’s face. “Lukas, honey! We were _just_ talking about you, I think Kieran has-”

Her smile slackened as her voice abruptly halted. Kieran glanced up at her sudden silence and frowned as her smile morphed into a look of concern. Lila went pale. “What do you mean murder, Lukas?”

Kieran stood up. “What?”

“Whatever happened-”

“What is going on, Lila?”

“Lukas is under arrest as a suspect for murder.” Lila slumped into her chair, face paler than snow. Her hands trembled as she handed the receiver to Kieran. “He needs to talk to you.”

Kieran snatched the phone from her hand and directly addressed Lukas:

“What the fuck happened?”

“I can’t explain now, White,” Lukas grumbled from the other end. “But I need you to come here now. Something terrible happened. I think the Vipers are involved.”

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Kieran sighed. “Dear God, Lukas, what did you do now?”

“I did nothing! Just get here, I’ll tell you everything. Bring Lila with you.”

“Of course, just wait for me there,” he hung up and took Lila’s frail arm to shake her gently. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be alright. Come on, I need you with me. Lukas is waiting for us.”

Lila nodded but remained seated. “It’s just a shock, don’t worry. Get you things, I’ll be right behind you.”

Kieran practically ran back into his office. Snatching the tie from the chair and carelessly retightening it around his neck, he picked up his briefcase and blazer as he strode out of his office, not even bothering to lock his room back up. Lila stood shakily, still pale but slowly moving to slip on her coat and grab her purse. Kieran squeezed her shoulder sympathetically.  
While Lila had only been working for him for two years, starting shortly after she got married to Lukas, Kieran had grown to treat the small woman as his own family. When he had attended Lukas’ wedding, his old friend had recommended Lila as a secretary for Kieran since he often complained about needing more help around the office.

As he and Lila slipped into the backseat of a cab, he gave brief instructions to the 11th Precinct Police Department. He reached over to grab Lila’s hand comfortingly.

“He’ll be alright Lila. I’m absolutely certain that he didn’t do it, and we’ll get him out immediately. He won’t have to wait behind bars.”

“I just can’t imagine what happened,” whispered Lila, who was still in a state of disbelief. The handkerchief in her hand was nearly crumpled from her anxiously wringing it.

“We’ll have dinner tomorrow night to discuss everything that happened, okay? I have dinner with the Family scheduled tonight, otherwise, I’d have you both over. He’ll be alright. Don’t worry too much.” Kieran cracked a hesitant smile at her. “Plus, when have I ever disappointed my clients?”

* * *

As the car screeched to a stop in front of the police department, Lila practically bolted through the rotating glass doors, leaving Kieran trailing behind her. Having to spend a little time composing himself before walking into the department, he quickly readjusted his tie (properly, this time) and made sure that his face carried his normal unconcerned facade.

When he arrived in the lobby of the police department, Lila had already filled out all the necessary paperwork verifying their identities and that they were, indeed, here to represent Lukas Randall. Two officers, a female with messy dark blue hair, and a taller man with short, wavy blond hair, were engulfing Lila in an embrace. He presumed that these were two of the officers Lila had worked with during her time at the APD.

Introducing himself quickly, he discovered that the blue-haired woman was Sergeant Kym Ladell while the man, who happened to be a Lieutenant, was named William Hawkes. As they led him down the corridor to the room where Lukas was located, he noticed that Kym’s arms never left Lila’s shoulders while William’s eyes never stopped flicking back at the two women.

_Interesting._

Slipping past William when he opened the door, Kieran locked eyes with Lukas before sitting down next to him. Lila sat down on the other side of Lukas, eyes welling up with tears of concern at the handcuffs over her husband’s wrists. Kieran glanced down quickly, only to notice that while Lila had managed to collect herself for Lukas’ sake, the two had the toes of their shoes touching underneath the table.

When March returned to the room, he appeared to be surprised that Lukas had actually managed to get one of the city’s best defense attorneys to arrive within thirty minutes of the call. Quickly stating the required formalities, he closed the door gently behind him before walking towards the table.

“So we meet again, Mr. White,” quipped Oliver March, plastering a pleasant smile onto his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Indeed, Detective March. As you see, I’m here to represent my client, Mr. Lukas Randall.”

Pulling out the chair he was in a mere half-hour ago, March studied the man in front of him. While he had only been involved in one other case with Mr. White, he was well aware of the man’s powerful defenses and charisma. He left no one unimpressed. Always dressed without a wrinkle on his clothes while still maintaining a perpetually messy ponytail, Mr. White’s confident, borderline arrogant, smile never left his face, even as he reached for the tea that he had requested from Kym. Sighing, March sat down, ready to be challenged at every step. This was going to be a difficult couple of hours.

“Well, shall we begin?”

“By all means, whenever you’re ready,” Kieran said while adjusting his posture and setting down his cup, not wanting to take another sip of the bland beverage that the APD called “tea”. He gestured gently at Lila, who promptly pulled out her own notepad and pen.

Clicking his pen, March began. “Well, Mr. Randall, could you please tell us what happened today? Why were you even in the Precinct that early?”

Sighing, Lukas laced his fingers together before answering. “I was doing paperwork and had to check the archives.”

“And what paperwork were you doing that required you to be in the office so early?”

“I was fixing up paperwork from the previous day’s patrol. It’s much quieter in the mornings before Ladell-,” suddenly remembering that he was part of an official interrogation, Lukas continued, “pardon me, _Sergeant Ladell_ , arrives at the office.”

“I don’t recall ever going past the captain’s office on my way to the archives unless he had called me there. Why did you pass by Hermann’s office?”

Kieran and Lukas gave twin lopsided grins. Detective March suppressed a shudder; he had never seen the office’s “Grumpy Cat” smile like that.

“You know he’s not obligated to answer that.”

“You know I’m not obligated to answer that.”

March sighed in frustration. “Perfectly alright, let’s continue then. Why were you unconscious and lodged in such a… compromising position under the captain’s desk?”

“I’m not sure. I heard a gasp coming from inside, but when I stepped inside to see what was going on, I was immediately knocked unconscious by someone or something.”

“So you weren’t holding a vial, syringe, or any other weapon?”

“Absolutely not. Only my gun, of course, but it was in my belt.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll be willing to tell me what exactly you saw after stepping into the room?”

“You know me well, Detective.”

Well aware of the fact that Kieran White would not let his client answer any question in detail today, March stood up.

“Well, gentlemen and lady, I believe we will be in touch again very soon. I’ll have lieutenant Hawkes bring you your paperwork for release.” The detective wasn’t even going to try to argue with Mr. White whether or not Lukas was allowed to leave the APD. Lukas posed no significant flight risk or threat to society, and his attorney would insist on his release regardless. Turning to Lukas, March said: “As I’m sure you’re aware, Officer Randall, you are not to leave Ardhalis city prior to trial.”

Nodding his understanding as March unlocked his handcuffs, he murmured a brief “thank you” before reaching for Lila’s hand.

As the trio walked out of the police station, Kieran patted Lukas on the shoulder.

“We’ll talk tomorrow night. Until then, get some rest.”

Waving to Kieran as he stepped into the cab, Lukas turned to wrap Lila in a warm embrace, apologizing for upsetting her.

“You know, sweetheart, I’m starting to think I should have stayed in to brew you your cinnamon coffee this morning,” joked Lukas in an attempt to get his wife to smile again.

Smiling hesitantly at him, Lila took his hand as they strolled through the streets of Ardhalis. The sun had already begun its descent to the horizon, and the weather was pleasant as they walked home, hand in hand, knowing all too well that the months to come would be everything but easy.

* * *

It was late into the evening when Lauren distinguished the tired steps of her Uncle climbing up the stairs, and she cursed under her breath. She had once again lost track of time working. After the warning from her uncle in the morning, she braced herself for the scolding, feeling she was back to being a little girl who had stolen cookies or stained the carpets with mud.

As per custom, Tristan cracked the door of her office open to glimpse inside. Unsurprisingly, he sighed in frustration at finding her bent over the desk and stepped inside to try and talk her into resting.

“I know what you’ll say, Uncle Tristan,” Lauren grinned at him, as the man simply stared exasperatedly. “But after the stunt that new boy pulled at the courthouse, I needed to revise some documents.”

“Your dedication to excellence is admirable, dearest niece of mine, but I get more worried about your health with each passing day,” Tristan walked to her side and watched her continue with her paperwork. “Did you even eat before coming here?”

“I did, in fact,” Lauren laughed. “Lucy refused to let me leave the dining room before I finished my plate. And she kindly brought me some fruit and water after that.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Lucy’s here, then,” Tristan laughed, patting Lauren’s head affectionately. “You would not only slave but also _starve_ to death if she weren’t here.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Uncle,” Lauren laughed. “I eat blueberry pancakes three times a week, at least!”

Tristan and Lauren laughed together. If anyone asked her, Lauren would tell them that Tristan had been as much of a father as her biological father had been. Tristan had opened the doors of his household when she was nothing but an orphaned little girl in dire need of a family, and from the moment she stepped inside, he loved her and treated her as if she were his own daughter. Tristan Sinclair never married, and never found the need to have children of his own either. He never overstepped the boundaries or tried to take the place his late brother had in Lauren’s heart, but he loved her unconditionally either way. He played with her in the garden on his free days. He learned to braid her hair even though at the beginning he was horrid at it. He educated her and raised her with high morals. He paid for her dance lessons when she asked for them.

Each year, they would go to the graves of Alexander and Rachel Sinclair, and they’d leave white roses. And each year, since she was twelve, Tristan would lay her on her bed and tell her stories of her father and mother until the tears were gone and she fell asleep. It was a tradition that they kept even into her adulthood.

Yes, Lauren loved her uncle. He was the only family she had left, and he never ever allowed her to feel alone or forgotten.

Tristan arranged some documents for her as he talked: “Did you hear what happened today at the APD?”

“I’m not very up to date with gossip,” noted Lauren, rolling her eyes at the thought of her coworkers whispering about various topics completely unrelated to work.

_Are we not overworked already? Where do these people find the time?_

“Oh, it’s no gossip,” Tristan winced. “It’s quite serious, actually. Stefan had to go and even I had to make it there.”

Lauren looked up and frowned, putting down her pen. “Why would the Chief of Police and the District Attorney need to be there?”

Having caught his niece’s attention, Tristan continued. “The Captain of the Precinct was murdered in his office,” He placed the documents back into the filing cabinet and gently closed the drawer. “One of the Officers is the main suspect. He was found blacked out in the office, under the desk, holding the vial with the poison that killed the man.”

“Poison?” Lauren perked up at this. “What poison did they use?”

Tristan stared into the desk for a while, as if the wood was the most entrancing thing he had ever seen in his life, lips tilted in hesitation.

“Uncle?”

“Batrachotoxin,” he muttered. “The poison of the golden frog.”

Lauren’s breath hitched. While she tried to keep her composure, her hands betrayed her and flew to the wristwatch she had yet to take off her as they balled into fists. After inhaling deeply and closing her eyes, she gestured at her uncle to continue.

“Hermann exhibited all the signs of batrachotoxin poisoning and the evidence was tested,” said Tristan, “We ruled out suicide since he had bruises all over his body and multiple items on his desk were swept across the room.”

"So it was definitely someone else," Lauren muttered.

Dropping her head into her hands and sitting in absolute silence for a brief period of time, Lauren looked up, eyes blazing.

“Uncle, I’ll take the case.”

“Lauren, no–"

" _Uncle_ ," Lauren stood up, practically begging, as she lifted her hands like she was praying. "Please, let me take the case. Let me have it. I swear I'll remain calm and level-headed, I swear, but I simply _must_ have this case.”

Standing up to walk around her desk so she could hug her uncle, knowing very well he could never resist her innocent expression, she continued.

“I don’t have nearly enough cases on hand right now, and all of the other experienced prosecutors are already swamped with work.”

She was glad her Uncle didn’t have her ability to discern lies through hearing, otherwise, she’d be done for. However, she suspected he saw right through that lie anyway.

Tristan was not convinced, and Lauren didn't blame him. She perfectly understood his hesitance, and he knew _why_ she was so insistent on having this specific case. He'd refuse. But no matter what, she would have it. She was going to have the case, and she was going to win it.

She was not going to let it slip through her fingers so easily when everything she wanted was within her reach. She dedicated her life to this. She worked harder than anyone ever could, graduated years ahead of her peers, and she met and surpassed every expectation in her way. Prosecutor at 23? No one in the Sinclair Family had ever achieved that.

She could do this.

She _would_ do this.

She owed them this much.

It took just a little bit of nagging for her Uncle to give in.

"Alright, Lauren," Tristan sighed, clearly already regretting his decision. "I'll pass the case on to you. But Lauren," he took her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I need you to keep your personal agenda out of this. Really, Lauren. You know how it is, Lauren: one mistake and it's over."

Lauren displayed her best confident grin. "Uncle, when have I failed you?"

Tristan chuckled. "Well, let's not begin right now."

Lauren had to bite her tongue to contain her excitement, opting instead for reaching for her agenda and snatching the first pen she came across. "So, what Precinct?"

"The 11th. Oliver March is in charge of the investigation."

She almost laughed. _Oh, this was perfect._

Her excitement quickly turned into concern. _Eleventh Precinct, that was Will's and Kym's as well. Were they alright?_

"I know what you're thinking," Tristan claimed. "They're fine. They were the ones who found the body, actually."

Lauren sighed in relief. "That's good to hear. Did they give their depositions already?"

"Yes. But there's nothing much to get from that."

Lauren nodded, writing everything down. "What's the suspect's name?"

"Lukas Randall."

"Ah, they've told me about him," Lauren thought back to her nights out with her friends, where she would tell them about the DA Office and they would tell her the shenanigans of the 11th Precinct. "A bit weird, they say. Brooding and encased in a dark aura constantly, in Kym's words. Will said he oftentimes looked like he was plotting his coworkers’ murder, especially before he had his coffee. He got married shortly ago, right? Two years?"

Tristan gaped at her. "How do you remember all of that? You don't even know the man."

Lauren shrugged, scribbling everything she could recall about Lukas Randall that she had been told by her friends. What was the name of his wife again?

_Oh, the poor woman, married to a murderer._

"Who will be the defense? Jones? Sounds like his kind of case."

Tristan barked out a laugh. "Oh, no. No, I _wish_ it was Jones. That man isn't half the character the defense of this one is."

Lauren arched an eyebrow. "What makes _this one_ any different? They’re all the same, compromising their morals for money."

Tristan snorted. He looked genuinely amused at the situation. "Young man, in fact. About your age, I believe he's two years older. But he's got the prestige of someone twice his age, at least," he pulled a crooked grin. "Have you ever heard of Kieran White, Lauren?"

As if summoned by the name, the grandfather clock downstairs chimed midnight.

She didn’t know much about Kieran White, for she had never _actually_ met the man, but he had a reputation that had barely grazed her ears. He was brutal when defending his clients, leaving some of the newer prosecutors nearly in tears. He had somehow never lost a case, even the most improbable ones, where there appeared to be more than enough evidence to convict someone.

They called him Beyond behind his back. _The one you call when you're guilty beyond a reasonable doubt._

Lauren jolted the name down, circling it in blue ink. Kieran White. Whoever this man was, she was about to make him fall. The leather wristwatch on her left hand reminded her of that, as it always would, even in her nightmares.

_Justice will be served._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > March: So who are you calling, Randall?
>> 
>> Lukas: Kieran White, heard of him?
>> 
>> March: Well shit, I'm out bye-  
> 
> 
> Lauren is a savage, running every day on three hours of sleep on top of years of sleep deprivation to graduate at 22. Kieran, on the other hand, has half a mind to sleep at night and graduated at 24.
> 
> We apologize to anyone who had to read this as we tried to get the formatting back, it was a mess TnT.  
> We screwed up so baaaad- Luckily everything's back in place now. Bless Charmaine for her hard work with the formatting <3
> 
> Anyway, we hope you enjoyed the second chapter of The Moonlighters! Do tell us your opinions, we're eager to know what you all think! 


	3. Pretentious Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Do you even remember how to use it, flower boy?” mocked Bella.
>> 
>> “It’s not easy to forget six years of training, _serpent_ ,” Kieran sneered, edging the blade closer to Bella's throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've assembled a nice little playlist for you for this episode! Thank you to Giggle's lovely friend, Doménica, for assembling the music in a single video ❤
> 
> [The Moonlighters: Chapter 3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eA7iuSawbk&feature=youtu.be)
> 
> _We'd like to mention that we don't own any of these songs, and we just really enjoy them and thought they would complement the chapter_
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING:** Manipulative/Morally Ambiguous Characters, Mentions of Trauma, Panic Attacks, Mentions of Child Abuse.

Kieran's good mood from earlier in the day had completely abandoned him.

Arriving home after leaving Lukas and Lila, he had barely enough time to put down his briefcase and change from his work suit to a more comfortable outfit before having to rush to the Family dinner.

Having never enjoyed the pretentious dinners that he was invited to once a month, Kieran wished to simply refuse to go in favor of actually getting work done at home. He was not in the mood to drink wine while pretending to enjoy the stories of someone else's successes when he should instead be helping Lukas. However, he was also acutely aware of the results of skipping. This knowledge, which crawled like ants on his back, reminding him he was meant to lower his head and obey no matter how much he hated it; he had disobeyed enough in the past and suffered the consequences. Therefore, sighing, he once again found himself in the backseat of a taxi, speeding off to whatever private hotel this month's banquet was located at.

The Rhododendron was located in the 12th district of Ardhalis. The hotel itself was one of the tallest buildings in Ardhalis city and also happened to be one of the most elegantly designed. With large bay windows allowing light to stream into every impeccably furnished room, a rooftop garden and bar, and near-perfect soundproofing for each and every room, the Rhododendron was one of the chosen gathering places of the elite. While ordinary citizens were allowed access to the hotel's first fifty floors as long as they could pay for the outlandish prices the hotel charged for its services, those above were exclusive. Visitors were required to display special cards for access. The top floors were frequently furnished with wine cabinets and expensive artisan tables and chairs. Each of the upper floors only contained one room and could be reorganized to hold a specific amount of dining tables or casual seating if the individual booking the room called ahead of time and knew who to contact. 

_They apparently deemed me worthy of becoming a member_ , mused Kieran. Membership could not be bought and was on an invitation-only basis based on societal or political impact.

However, the administration had made it exceptionally clear in the past that it wasn't too particular about _how_ exactly their cardmembers exacted their impact, as long as it met their requirements in power. It didn't matter if an individual was a government official or involved with the mafia, and the administration almost enjoyed their reputation as the preferred meeting place of those who lived and worked in the grey areas of society. Security was incredibly valued at the Rhododendron, and it was understood that whatever business occurred in the upper floors of the seventy-five story building were to be kept relatively nonviolent and absolutely confidential.

As Kieran stepped out of the elevator at the 50th floor, he slid a matte grey card across the desk of the staff member tasked with verifying the identity of each visitor requesting access to the upper floors. The man flipped through a leather-bound book filled with cardmember numbers for Kieran's name before handing the card back to him. Walking towards the second elevator behind the desk, Kieran glanced down at the slip of paper he was sent as an invitation before informing the elevator operator that he would be headed to the 57th floor today. 

When the ornately embossed elevator doors slid open again, he was greeted with a long hallway, lit faintly by hanging lights that glowed an alluring gold. Looking down at the burgundy carpeting as he walked to the wooden door at the end of the hallway, he noted how similar the hue was to the color of blood.

Before he could knock, however, the door swung open. A fawn-skinned woman with shoulder-length wavy brown hair, dark brown eyes framed with thick lashes, and blood-red lips stood at the doorway, arms crossed over her chest as she flicked her side bangs out of her face. However, even while wearing what appeared to be 4-inch stilettos, she still only reached Kieran's chin, causing her to have to arch her neck to look up at him.

"Kind of you as always to greet me at the door, Ms. J," smiled Kieran, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Really, he'd rather be anywhere else. He already felt the walls closing around him in a suffocating embrace.

"Seriously, Kieran?" The woman closed the door behind them and spun around to face the rest of the room, navy blue dress twirling in the air as she briskly led them to the head of the table. He didn't miss the small tattoo on her left upper arm, almost hidden by the chiffon sleeves of her knee-length gown.

"Fine, _Jovie._ I hope you've been well."

Jovie laughed at his feeble attempt to make small talk. Addressing him without looking directly at him, she quipped, "Well, I've been doing as well as the leader of the Reapers can do."

She tugged his lapel towards the table in a savage attempt of affection that did not sit well with Kieran, who taking the hint, proceeded to pull out her chair at the large oak table decorated with various flower arrangements of red anemones before sitting down. Jovie turned to whisper her orders at another man before dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

One glance around the room could tell you that no one here actually was family. When Kieran aged out of the orphanage he had grown up in, at fourteen years old, he was recruited by none other than Mr. Inar Brenner, the former leader of the Reapers, famous for his brutal rule that skyrocketed the Family to near-absolute power. Jovie, better known as Ms. J to outsiders, had acquired her position of leader after what the police filed Inar's death away as a "cold-case Mafia murder." 

The Reapers were one of the oldest and most potent Families in Ardhalis city. After Jovie ascended to power, she decided to create the Anemone Corporation, an international company specializing in elaborate flower arrangements and dazzling fireworks displays. 

However, the various wooden crates tucked into the rooms' corners seemed to suggest something more sinister than simple holiday fireworks and bouquets.

After Tristan Sinclair had become the District Attorney six years ago, he had focused almost all of his energy on reducing the power the various Families had over the social structure of Ardhalis through crime. As a result, many organizations were forced to devote more time and energy to their previously-neglected cover businesses. While the Reapers chose to involve themselves with the hospitality industry, their oldest rivals, the Vipers, had chosen the route of medicinal research and drug development. However, these changes did little to interfere with the two Families' primary industry: murder. 

While the Vipers chose poison as their trademark, the Reapers specialized in bombings, arson, and swordwork. Their targets were rarely left in one piece if one could count the pieces at all. Of the many assassins under the Family, the most skilled were known collectively as the Crocus Unit. Before each and every attack, they would ensure that at least one witness lived to report that they recalled seeing a small bloom of autumn crocus in their vicinity.

Kieran's mind was jolted back to reality by the clinking of Jovie's glass of merlot as she proposed a toast. 

Standing up and raising his own glass, he absentmindedly listened to Jovie thanking everyone for coming and toasted to the family's prosperity. Kieran honestly had no idea why she insisted on carrying out her father's toasting tradition before every Family banquet. It was always the same, and the people who were invited had most likely already heard the exact phrases more than a hundred times.

The sound of skirts and suits rustling as everyone returned to their seats was quickly drowned out by the sound of clinking knives and forks on plates. Dinner had officially begun.

* * *

There was little on his plate that could appeal to Kieran when he wished to leave the table so ardently. Gourmet food did nothing to wash away the acrid smell of the many Reaper associates present at the table, chatting easily as if this were truly a family reunion. He couldn’t register the flavor of the beautifully plated stuffed pork tenderloin on his plate, being too preoccupied with shaking away the tingling sensations on his back these goddamned events always caused him. Jovie’s voice, that although laced with pleasant words and gentle tones, stood out amongst all the others, and Kieran listened half-heartedly, glancing down at his watch to calculate the minutes he had left before he was permitted to leave. While her words were pleasant and unassuming at face value, Ms. J was well-known for coating her threats in a layer of honey. Although the woman was rather petite and appeared to be innocent, she was no less severe than her father when contradicted. One should never judge a book by its cover, especially when said book could backstab you at any given moment, both figuratively _and_ literally.

“So when will you be coming back to us, dearest Kieran?”

Kieran sipped some of his wine before replying to Jovie, mustering his best attempt at a nonchalant smile. “I believe we had an agreement, Jovie. I still have two years to go, and if I do say so myself, I think I’ve already fulfilled my side of the deal.”

Jovie sneered, examining the way the light refracted through her crystal wine glass. “Ah, yes. I’ve been told you’re doing amazing as a lawyer.”

Some man perked up at the other end of the table. “How’s it feel, lying through your teeth for money? Does the Family not give you enough?”

Kieran clenched his fork a little tighter and stabbed a piece of pork, choosing to remain as calm and collected as possible. He would _not_ lose his composure in front of these loathsome people. Not again. Not with so much at stake.

Someone laughed at the comment as if it really were the most hilarious thing ever. “Really, all those years of effort to train you and you decide to work behind a _desk_?”

A woman already on her third glass of wine quipped like she knew what she was talking about: “At least a sword is honest.”

“Now, everyone, you should be all thankful dear Kieran decided to become a _lawyer_ of all things,” Jovie grinned. “We can have the fun, and he’ll deal with the aftermath. Won't you, Kieran?”

Kieran put on a strained smile. “Sure.”

“Such a good boy,” Jovie smiled, too gently, too false. “I guess my father taught you well.”

Chuckles resounded around the table, but none were Kieran’s. He simply stared at the woman as she mocked his past, a thousand retorts running through his mind, but he uttered none because the frailness of their deal was something he’d rather not toy with. Jovie Brenner hated him. In all honesty, Kieran hated her as well, but neither openly voiced their opinions on the other, choosing instead to be civil and seemingly polite. Kieran was an asset, a weapon in Jovie's arsenal, and he was stuck in this Family for at least two more years. Until then, he would have to hold his tongue.

Dinner was almost over by the time the missing member of the Family showed up.

Kieran sighed at the sound of the door opening. That man was really asking to have his throat slit.

He turned with the rest of the table to the entrance and gaped.

 _That idiot_.

Tim Sake, the despicable man that happened to work almost as an independent contractor for the Reapers, had finally shown up at the party, late as always. That was not the problem, no. It was his companion, his date, if one must say.

Belladonna Davenport hung from his arm, a blade concealed under Tim’s arm pointed right at his side. A Viper. The heiress of the Vipers, of all things, the newly proclaimed Leader. One does not bring a Viper to a Reaper dinner under _any_ circumstances. What was the man _thinking?_

Setting down her wine glass by her plate, Jovie stood up from her seat, nonchalantly brushing her skirt to reveal the silhouette of a dagger strapped to her thigh.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Ms. Davenport? I wasn’t aware that the Vipers’ funds were so depleted that you’d have to come to one of our dinners to catch a meal,” mocked Jovie as she approached Belladonna.

The occupants of the table glanced over their shoulders, ready for the thing to blow up and all too willing to witness the disaster.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, _Ms. J_ , I’m just here to see how lavish your monthly dinners are. Look at how beautiful those flower arrangements are… Too bad they don’t have belladonnas in them.”

“We all know that belladonnas only cheapen the look of any flower arrangement they’re part of. Our sales demonstrate that much. Why would I include them in my personal events if they don’t even sell well?”

Belladonna huffed. Rolling her eyes at the narcissism displayed by the pink-haired woman in front of her, Jovie tugged Tim Sake out of her grasp and shoved him at Kieran. Kieran hurled Tim into the man’s assigned seat, sending a warning at him to _stay there_ with a murderous glance, before taking a dagger from his inner pocket and laying it on the table next to his plate. Shifting, he turned to stare at Belladonna as well.

“Look, Bella, you aren’t welcome here. If you want to visit the Rhode, book your own room next time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, please, we’ll see you at the next annual grand gathering. Would it not be possible for you to wait another three months before _gracing_ us with your presence? Or are you that desperate for attention? ” She reached for her dagger and began polishing it in front of Bella. The business people at the table tensed at the sight of the blades on display.

“Relax, Brenner. I just wanted to have a chat with you. Is that too much to ask?” Belladonna crossed her legs as she settled into a loveseat near the table, skirt fluttering as it brushed her legs. “I was just wondering if you heard the news. About the 11th?”

“Is this how bland this conversation is going to be? Unlike you, Bella, I’m educated enough to read a newspaper.”

Running her hands through her hair in a leisurely manner, Bella continued, looking at everyone at the table from under her long lashes.

“Oh, I’m sure that you’re putting those years of education to good use. It’s truly such a shame. Deaths… They seem to happen when you least expect them, don’t they?”

Everyone at the table stiffened to Belladonna’s words, those who almost seemed to carry the echo of a threat, uttered like one would talk about the weather. Kieran himself reflexively dropped his hand on the dagger next to him. If he hated The Reaper’s dinners alone, the serpent’s visit made the place _unbearable_ , but he merely kept his serene facade as his hand ghosted over the leather hilt of the dagger.

Quickly losing her patience, Jovie snapped at her opponent. “Cut to the chase, will you?”

“Ah… It must be such a shame… Losing such a powerful _associate_ ,” smirked Belladonna, blade pointing lazily at Jovie. While it appeared to be polished to a gleam, everyone in the room knew that it was coated with a layer of deadly poison. Someone gulped audibly.

"The Reapers don’t do vengeance like the Vipers… No, we’re much more civilized than that,” Jovie spat out, “But if I find out who killed him, they’re never going to get away with it.” 

“Princess, we all know you’re all bark and no bite. The Reapers aren’t what they used to be anyway,” purred Bella as she examined her perfectly manicured nails. “However, the Vipers are _just_ as playful as ever! What do you say, Jovie, should I head to the Goblin tonight? Accidentally drop some liquid in some of those glasses? Now wouldn’t _that_ be absolutely entertaining!”

As she sauntered over to Kieran, she tilted her head back at Jovie. Every cord of muscle in him tensed as her fingernails grazed his shoulder. “You know, _Vivi_ , I didn’t think you’d welcome a _traitor_ back into your organization, but I suppose that’s just how desperate you are.” 

She dared to sit on the armrest of his chair and tilt his chin up, always in her little game of flirtation and charm. Kieran reached for his dagger on the table and pressed the blade to her throat in a flurry of movement, eyes narrowed at the woman grinning down at him. Belladonna simply chuckled, not at all intimidated by the shining steel blade resting near her collarbones, and judging by the gleam in her eyes, Kieran guessed she was _daring_ him to go through with it.

“Do you even remember how to use it, flower boy?” mocked Bella.

“It’s not easy to forget six years of training, _serpent_ ,” Kieran sneered, edging the blade closer to Bella's throat.

“Don’t pretend to be close with us, Belladonna,” hissed Jovie, swatting Bella's finger away from Kieran’s chin. She gave him a pointed look, causing him to slowly lower the dagger back to its spot on the table. Belladonna seemed to find his role as a dog who obeyed Jovie’s every command hilarious, as she snickered amusedly.

Brushing her legs against Kieran’s knees, she continued, entirely at ease. “Is it true that you’re _defending_ a _police officer_? My, you’ve truly stooped lower than I thought was humanly possible! Did Mr. I teach you nothing?”

The rest of the table tittered, both intimidated and intrigued by the three individuals in front of them, fully prepared to attack each other. Few were the ones who dared mention Inar, especially in front of Jovie. Tim Sake had yet to mutter a word or touch his food, eyes fixated on the spotless china.

“That’s enough,” Jovie gestured to two of the actual assassins present in the room, pointing a slim finger to Belladonna. “Get her out of my sight.”

“You boys touch a single hair of mine, and I’m afraid you’ll endure a slow and painful death,” she cautioned, not even bothering to turn around to look at the two assassins who were caught mid-stride.  
  
“Would you like to guess what kind of poison is on my blade today?” Bella smiled, twirling the tiny blade like it was a toy and not a deadly weapon. “Viper? Ricin? Or perhaps… Batrachotoxin?”

At this point, Kieran had been pushed to his limits. This woman had stormed into a dinner he already didn’t want to be in, mocked him, then sat on his lap completely uninvited. He was fine when she sat on his armrest. He was _fine_ when she draped her legs across her knees, scraping a few fibers of his suit. But enough was enough when she moved to sit _on_ him. He wouldn’t be both a helpless puppy _and_ a chair on the same night. Although he was absolutely aware that she wasn’t interested in him, he also knew how much she always enjoyed getting on his nerves through whatever tactic possible. From when they were young, she had a complete disregard for anyone’s feelings but her own and had slowly started pretending to flirt with him for her own amusement. Standing up rapidly and pushing her off of his lap, he leaned forward to hiss in her ear as she regained her balance.

“Don’t push me, Davenport. I may be in a suit and tie, but you aren’t the only dangerous one in this room.”

At this point, everyone in the room had stopped eating and was staring at the three, mouths wide open. While they were all aware of Kieran’s background, they could never imagine that he could still hold his own against the Leader and top assassin of the Vipers after almost ten years without training. The man who had previously joked about Kieran’s abilities was paler than paper.

Belladonna snatched Kieran’s cup, gulping down the entirety of its contents before dropping it to his feet, never breaking eye contact.

“Oops. My fingers slipped.” She dared him to move as she wiped the wine off her blood-red lips.

He didn’t flinch. He wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction, but his patience was growing thin.

Jovie was also done being civil. She wouldn’t stand to be humiliated in front of her own Family. Yanking Belladonna’s arm, Jovie tugged the giggling woman away from the table and practically dragged her to the doorway. Voice lowered to a deadly whisper and eyes flaming, Jovie spat out a single word, as she pressed her own dagger against the hilt of Bella’s blade.

“ _Out.”_

* * *

Kieran had no interest in staying any longer. When Jovie walked back into the room after slamming the door in Bella’s face, she immediately redirected her wrath at Tim Sake. The man had some explaining to do, but Kieran wasn’t about to stay to hear it. Simply reminding Jovie that Sake was an asset for _him_ , he stormed out at the chimes of midnight as per custom.

“Absolutely ludicrous…” Kieran sighed to no one, taking the blazer off and hanging it on his forearm.

Thankfully, the day was over.

He turned the corner and came face to face with Belladonna, who had yet to leave the premises. She was leaning against the wall, examining her hair in a compact mirror, as if she had been waiting for him. She glanced up at him and their eyes met for a moment before Kieran tried to walk past her because, really, it had been a long day and he had enough of the woman. She, however, didn’t seem affected by his evident distaste for her and grabbed his arm before yanking him roughly towards her. He settled with an audible _thump_ against the walls, barely missing one of the light fixtures mounted onto them.

“Too hot in the kitchen?” she smirked.

“What do you want?”

“Are you _really_ going to defend the police officer?”

“That’s none of your business,” he arched an eyebrow at her. “Or is it?”

Belladonna tilted her head to the side but said nothing, smirking. Kieran groaned.

“This is all a game for you, right?” he shrugged. “There isn’t a thrill for you unless a couple of death threats get involved?”

“You know me so well, Kieran,” Bella laughed, and it seemed like she was genuinely amused. “It’s true, it’s really all just a game,” she tilted her head side to side. “A power play, you can call it. It’s not like they can touch me in a place like this,” she gestured to the hallway. “But their barks are fun. And one gets awfully bored at the top. I insist you would've been a great Viper... Still as unwilling to come to my side as ever?”

“ _Goodbye_ , Bella.”

“The 11th sure has bad luck, don't you think?” Bella giggled at his back. “I killed my little pet two months ago there. It was an absolute pleasure...watching him not even register who it was. But then again, I wouldn’t have expected more from him. After all, he was stupid enough to get discovered, wasn’t he?”

Kieran halted in his tracks. _What the hell?_ He turned to her.

“ _You_ killed Harvey Wood? Personally?”

“Ah, so you heard?” Bella pulled out her dagger again to scrape under her nails. “Yes, it was me. I was going to send someone else, really, but I decided to do it myself in the end. One needs to scare the cops every now and then, remind them they’re not safe in their own territory. They weren’t smart enough to figure out that he was a spy, anyway.”

“You haven’t changed a bit, Belladonna,” he sneered. “You’re still the same loathsome, murderous snake.”

“And you are so much better than me?”

“I don’t kill. I never have.”

Belladonna sighed, messing with the folds of her dress. “You think you’re all high and mighty just because you don’t wield the sword?” She stalked around him like a lioness taunting her prey. “But you let the murderers free, right? Wouldn’t that make you responsible for their acts, Kieran?” She placed her chin on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “You’re still a murderer, _flower boy_. You’re as much of a monster as I am.”

Kieran pulled himself away from her and the suffocating scent of her perfume, his heart beating in his throat as he tried to block out her words.

_She’s lying, she’s always lied, she’s just trying to get to me–_

Belladonna did not pursue him this time, but did call out one last taunt at his retreating figure before he stepped into the elevator:

“I can’t believe you’re still holding onto your pathetic morals. I’d think they whipped it out of you.”

The doors of the elevator closed, protecting him from the venom dripping from Belladonna’s tongue, which was even deadlier than the one coated around her blade. He fell back against the mirror, breath hurried and fingers finding their way through his hair. A cold sweat ran down his spine, and he closed his eyes shut to remind himself that _no_ , he was not in a basement anymore, that he was not bleeding, and that he would soon be able to leave the cramped space that seemed to get smaller with every ragged breath.

He bolted out of the elevator, bumping into a woman in an ivory gown, too unnerved to even apologize. The tie was choking him, suffocating him, and he couldn’t resist yanking it off and loosening the upper buttons of his shirt even in the brisk evening air. As his lungs filled up with biting air with each and every breath he took, Kieran stood hunched over on the sidewalk, hands braced on his knees. For a few seconds, the world seemed to freeze as he crouched there, earning himself curious glances from nobles and upper-class citizens walking past him. Barely registering their muttered complaints about his disheveled appearance, Kieran focused on the divots in the sidewalk, letting the seconds flow past him.

_You’re not a murderer, Kieran. Get your act together._

_Get up and go on. That’s how it works; this is war and you know it._

Listening to the voice in his head, he straightened himself and wrapped the coat he retrieved on his way out tighter around himself, clutching the tie in his fist as he nearly bolted from the Rhododendron. He was about half an hour away from his apartment on foot. While the walk didn’t necessarily excite him, Kieran couldn’t bear the idea of being in an enclosed space anytime soon after his interaction with Bella. No, he wouldn’t be trapped in a cage again. Not like a dangerous predator, a lion prisoner before each show.

Not like a _monster_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Nobody:
>> 
>> Waters: Jovie is my _child_ and is my favorite character pLeAse-
>> 
>> Giggle: You know she's-
>> 
>> Waters: _Ask me again if I care_
> 
> Hello everyone, Waters/Charmaine here (you'll notice that I'll generally be taking the odd chapters while Giggle takes the even ones)! So uh...this is definitely one of my favorite chapters (if not _the_ favorite chapter) we've written so far. Giggle went "how much production/tension you want in this" and I went "yes".
> 
> The plot starts rolling quite quickly from here on out, and there'll be a small *surprise* to come with next chapter, so keep your eyes peeled for that. And if you're wondering why they haven't met yet...it'll happen. Don't worry. I swear it'll happen. (But imagine, what if we went the WHOLE story with all 4 separated- just kidding, my Lauki/Kywi heart wouldn't be able to stand that) ❤
> 
> Please tell us your opinions on the chapter! There are quite a few clues for the future in this one, did you catch them?


	4. Acute Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Are you sure, Lauren?” Will smiled sadly at her. “I think you’ve realized as well the dates don’t match. Lukas is my age. Do you think a mere thirteen-year-old could’ve done that all those years ago?”
>> 
>> Lauren’s whole body tensed, and she swatted her hand in the air in a facade of nonchalance. “ **It's got nothing to do with that-** "
>> 
>> Kym gasped, suddenly sobering up. “Oh, right. That.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so we found it necessary to point out the flower language involving the last chapter, which had quite a ton, so we'll be pointing them out now.
> 
>  **Rhododendrons:** Danger, Beware.  
>  **Red Anemones:** Death, Forsaken Love.  
>  **Autumn Crocus:** Hope*.  
>  **Belladonnas:** Deception, Danger, and Death.
> 
> *This one was a poetic kind of game. Crocus flowers are poisonous, therefore the Crocus Unit of Assassins translates to "The last shred of hope seen before death". Why? Because Giggle is a sucker for flower language and has a flair for the dramatic while Waters goes "oh, pretty flower" and thinks she's a comedian.

Anyone would agree that Lauren Sinclair is an early bird.

She showed up at the office every morning with striking punctuality, announcing her presence with the unmistakable scent of dark coffee and the clicking of her stilettos on the marble floor like a mobile grandfather clock.

However, this was only partly true. While most “early birds” were early risers, Lauren could be best described as an overzealous night owl. She often spent whole nights working, relying on a mere three hours of sleep and an alarming amount of caffeine to power her through her day. It was not uncommon to catch a glimpse of a pale and baggy-eyed Lauren before she freshened up, though none of her coworkers dared to comment about her appearance.

Today, she had so much adrenaline that she almost forgot her morning coffee at breakfast. _Almost_. Lauren had already gulped the piping hot beverage down by the time she closed her front door. Under the cloudy autumn sky of Ardhalis, she strolled casually in her heels, resisting the urge to run to the office under the curious looks of passersby who didn’t deem it fit for someone to look so awake at this time in the morning. She climbed the steps leading up to the building two at a time and barely registered the security examination before bolting down the hallway to her office. Most of her coworkers had yet to arrive in the office, and the few that were present could only manage a weak smile at her (which she was too busy to return) due to their own lack of sleep. Anyone who had worked in the DA’s office for long enough would recognize this behavior: there was something pressing on her mind and getting in her way would only result in your name written on Lauren’s blacklist. Whatever they had to tell her could wait.

Lauren slammed her purse down on the secretary’s desk, breath slightly strained. Charlotte jolted in her seat, looking up from the envelopes she had been organizing. She smiled nervously, intimidated by the tall woman looming over her desk, but not surprised. “Good morning, Ms. Sinclair. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Good morning, Charlotte. I apologize for startling you. Did my uncle send anything for me?” Tristan had left even earlier than she did. The file should already be here at the front desk.

“Yes, your file is right here,” she fished out a file from a stack before handing it to Lauren, who practically snatched it from her grasp. Charlotte’s desk, despite constantly being littered with folders meant for the multiple prosecutors she was a secretary of, was apparently flawlessly organized. Used to Lauren’s antics, Charlotte simply chuckled and continued. “He requested you to go to his office later so you could sign some documents.”

“Sure,” Lauren was already scanning the first page of the file: murder, Captain Hugues Hermann, poisoning. _It was the right one_. “Thank you, Charlotte. I won't be in the office for too long today, as I have a few people to meet with. I won’t be taking any calls unless they’re regarding the ongoing cases.”

“Understood, Ms. Sinclair,” Charlotte handed Lauren stacks of envelopes and a couple of manila folders for two of the other cases she was in charge of. “These are yours as well.”

“Thank you. That’d be all.”

She was halfway to her door before Charlotte had the chance to reply, pushing the door open with her shoulder as her hands were full. Sighing as she flopped into her chair, she placed Hermann’s file on the far corner of her desk, fully aware that if it were any closer, she wouldn’t be able to focus on any of her other cases.

Lauren pulled her planner out of her drawer and flipped to the ribbon bookmark pressed haphazardly between the pages before stepping towards the large filing cabinet at the corner of the room.  
  
_Call 7th precinct (R-3970), research warrantless search (D-1520)._ Lauren continued down her list of tasks for the day, pulling the related case files out of the filing cabinet as she went. Sitting down at her desk once again, she opened R-3970 to review the details of the case before her scheduled appointment on the phone with the head detective of the 7th precinct.

Within a few minutes, the phone on her desk rang. _Right on time, as is expected of the head detective_. Clicking the top off of her pen, she reached for the receiver. 

“Hello, Lauren Sinclair speaking.”

* * *

Setting down the receiver, Lauren shuffled the pages of notes she had written. Organizing them slightly before she reached for D-1520, she glanced over the mountains of documents that had built up on her desk over the past week to spot the file she had received from Tristan this morning.

Despite what her desk might suggest, Lauren currently had a remarkably small workload. Following the last time she had 250 open cases at once and slept for 3 hours a night for a month, Tristan had decreased the number of cases any prosecutor was allowed to have on hand to 100 cases at any point in time. Ever since Tristan had become the district attorney, the mafia families had been focusing most of their attention on their various legal businesses, and more prosecutors had been hired to decrease the average workload.

While the easier and less serious cases were passed down to the less experienced prosecutors, Lauren usually had a combination of misdemeanors and felonies that maxed out her caseload. However, there had been a noticeable decrease in crime recently, leaving her hands, which were forever itching with more to do, quite empty. Having finished the bulk of the cases she was assigned, Lauren only had 37 open cases left, most of which were either far from their trial date or had almost reached a decision already. Rather disappointing for her busy nature. Of these cases, there were only a handful that were pressing, which included R-3970 and D-1520, and even those were at least a week away from the next hearing. While the other prosecutors worked tirelessly during their hours in the office, most had families to take care of, other obligations that filled their weekends, or simply valued the health benefits that sleep conferred upon them.

_Yeah, that’s likely never going to happen._

As she tried to focus on the large casebook in front of her, she couldn’t help glancing back towards the still-pristine manila folder on her desk, unmarred by ink or coffee stains. Giving in to the temptation, she set aside the case file she was working on, making room for the new case on her desk. Lauren smiled, opening the file eagerly.

Reviewing the [crime scene report](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831047/chapters/66713806), filled out and signed by March and Will, she started jotting down notes on the lemon-colored legal pad she kept beside her. 

The report that detailed how sergeant Ladell and lieutenant Hawkes had come to discover Hermann’s body was brief. Listing the date, time, and location of the discovery, the report contained little else. Paperclipped behind the sheet was the arrest report, hastily filled out by Will. Lauren jotted down the key points of the report messily, pen nib scratching at the paper.

Placing the sheets of paper, still smelling faintly of typewriter ink despite being completely dry, back into the manila folder, she moved onto the three depositions from Kym, Will, and Lukas Randall.

As Tristan had warned her, [Kym](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831047/chapters/66713716#workskin) and [Will's](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831047/chapters/66713560#workskin) depositions weren’t particularly useful. Detective Cooper had conducted both interviews, and the man had settled for the bare-bones details of the case, and only diverted to ask a question that seemed to irritate Kym if her wording had any say in the matter. There wasn’t much on the two depositions that weren’t already detailed on the original report about the crime scene. Evidence was apparently still being analyzed by the forensic analysis sector, while the coroner’s office hadn’t been able to finalize their autopsy of the captain quite yet.

However, one of the documents in the file caught her attention: [Lukas Randall's transcript](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831047/chapters/66713341). Although Lukas was the primary suspect for the murder, she noticed that the interview was incredibly brief.

 _White didn’t let him get much information in_. Lauren huffed, disappointed at the lack of information the documents in the folder offered her. She couldn’t believe that they would just let the main suspect of a murder go, although she suspected why they conceded.

There were too many questions she had about the case. The evidence didn’t appear to point to anything conclusive. The depositions were useless.

Thrusting the documents into the towers of files on her desk, Lauren grabbed the phone and dialed in a flurry, toying with her wristwatch restlessly, ready to get to the truth one way or another. Thank god she had people on her side all too willing to aid her.

* * *

Autumn was rapidly leaving its mark on Ardhalis city, and Lauren doubted it would be long before the golden leaves gave way to the barren trees and glistening snow. It was a shame. She liked autumn. Lauren enjoyed pondering the constant reminder of the fleetingness of life, surrounded by the leaves colored scarlet and gold drifted down the streets of the city.

The chilly air whipping about her skin made her regret her hastiness to arrive at her appointment. Her thin blouse and skirt did little to keep the cold at bay, and not even the long wool coat could keep her from shivering lightly. Thank goodness she had remembered to bring her fleece-lined leather gloves before rushing out of her office.  
  
Sitting on a nearby wooden bench, Lauren tried to warm herself by rubbing her hands quickly on her legs. Luckily, the man she had been waiting for arrived right before she could freeze to death. Best of all, he brought coffee. Lauren nearly knocked Oliver March over as she reached for one of the disposable coffee cups.

"Thank you so much," Lauren gasped, feeling the warmth of the beverage settle on her stomach. "I needed it."

“Those eyebags of yours tell me that much,” March chuckled, taking a spot on the bench by her side, nose tinted red by the cold. “How are you doing these days, Lauren?”

Lauren hummed with her cup between her lips, slowly regaining feeling in her fingertips and toes as the warmth from the coffee flowed through her veins. “Overworked. Or, well, my Uncle says so. Can you believe he’s trying to coerce me into dating again?”

March laughed. “He didn’t learn the lesson, did he?”

“Not at all,” Lauren sighed, steam billowing around her face. “After so many failed dates I’d doubt there would be any willing bachelors, anyway. I think I’ve scared all of them off. Serves them right!”

“Yes, I’m sure there aren’t many bachelors left that are ignorant enough to try and keep the lovely prosecutor Sinclair at home, baking pumpkin pies,” March laughed, and Lauren joined in. The tales of her disastrous dates had reached far beyond what she imagined. The various resentful men she halfheartedly attempted to date were all too willing to whisper about the “unyielding” lone heiress to the Sinclair fortune, leaving on her wake only countless bruised egos when she stormed from candlelit dinners.

March glanced at his own watch. “Do you have any specifics you’d like to ask? I’m sure you’ve read the files already and I have ten minutes until my break ends.”

“It must be chaos at the Precinct, right?”

“You have no idea,” March sipped from his coffee. “That can’t be all you’re curious about?”

“Who was on duty for the night watch yesterday?” Lauren stared at the leaves rustling on the trees that lined the horizon. “Maybe they saw Lukas acting suspicious.”

“So you’ve declared him guilty already?” March arched an eyebrow. “Lauren, are you being objective?”

“I’m not taking any risks. The night guard?”

“I don’t know who was on duty, but I can find out for you,” March shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Why did you approve Randall’s pretrial release?”

“He poses no threat to society,” March explained. “His weapon has been confiscated, he has a perfect record, and there’s not enough to keep him locked up before trial. He also didn’t resist when we arrested him. The judge can decide if it’s necessary, but I’m afraid we don’t have enough to do it right now,” March huffed, eyes reduced to a thin line. “Plus, trying to do it would only result in conflict with his attorney. No offense to you, Lauren, but your colleagues can get quite intense.”

“Ah, his attorney,” Lauren looked up from the notepad she had been scribbling on. “What’s his attorney like? I have heard he’s quite good at his job.”

“Mr. White? Yes, he’s amazing at what he does. I mean, he did prevent Lukas from saying much, if anything at all,” March nodded once, his gaze fixated on the bird pruning its feathers on a nearby light post, recalling his experience with the distinguished defense counsel. March continued. “I only had one other case against him. Attempted murder. In fact, _Beyond_ is so good at what he does that he managed to win a case where all of the evidence was against his client.”

Lauren gaped. “What?”

“Just what you heard,” March made a grand gesture with his arms. “It couldn’t be more obvious even if we found him with the weapon, but no, White somehow managed to free the man of all charges with nothing but a fine. No one knows how he does it. I asked around after that case and it seems that he’s won every case no matter how hard,” he sighed. “He’s a pain in the ass, but as an attorney, he’s excellent. You have a tough rival.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Lauren shrugged, not entirely sure she believed that herself, but unwilling to appear concerned about her own abilities.

March chuckled. “Oh, there aren’t two of him, really. The man has an ego the size of a planet and is quite charismatic. Tries to be polite but his expressions betray him sometimes. You should’ve _seen_ the face of disgust he made at the tea Kym served him,” March laughed. “Priceless.”

“Sounds like a jerk to me,” Lauren scowled.

“Perhaps you are right,” March mused, tapping his foot against the sidewalk.

Lauren tapped the pen against the notepad. “What about Randall? How is he?”

She hated being restricted to mere factual evidence, preferring to dig deeper into a defendant’s background. Lauren excelled at digging through people’s pasts, eager to expose anything she could about secrets they may keep. There was only so much the present could tell you; most answers, she had found out, happened to be shrouded in the shadows of the past. A personality could tell you a lot about a crime.

“Lukas…” March hummed, deep in thought, before letting out a pleasant chuckle. “Well, he is definitely quite the character. Much as you, he constantly fuels himself with caffeine, oftentimes giving glares that make even me shiver when someone deprives him of his favorite dark roast. He might scare anyone who doesn’t know him well, but is otherwise a good guy and an amazing officer.”

“So you don’t think he did it,” Lauren arched an eyebrow at the detective, who lifted both hands in a sign of peace.

“I don’t think he did, but that’s your job to decide. Mine is to find out what happened in there,” he checked the wristwatch again. “Speaking of which, I should be leaving to resume my duties. Any other questions?”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” Lauren smiled. “Thank you, detective March.”

“Think nothing of it, Lauren,” March tipped down his hat as a farewell. “I know how much this means to you, and you know I’ll always help you the best I can.”

“I know,” Lauren smiled at his retreating figure. “Have a pleasant day.”

“You as well, dear. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

* * *

Swinging the door to the restaurant open, Lauren was almost tackled to the floor by a blur of indigo hair. Thankfully, her reflexes were quick enough for her to grab onto the door frame to steady herself as her friend clung to her torso like a raccoon to a log. The exasperated sigh that came from a nearby table, Lauren guessed, was Will’s.

“ _Ladell._ ”

“Laureeeeeen!” Kym squealed, crushing Lauren’s ribs. “I missed you so much! It’s been far too long since last time I saw you,” he stood upright and grabbed Lauren’s hands, gasping. “You’re freezing! Come, Will batted his eyelashes at the waitress and got us a place near the fireplace.”

“I did not-”

“It’s great to see you two are quite the same,” Lauren laughed as she sat down between them, always the barrier stopping them from getting too far into their banter. She leaned to kiss Will’s cheek, settling into the cushion. Will raised an eyebrow at Kym as he returned the kiss.

“You talk as if it’s been awfully long since last time we saw each other.”

Kym whined, sprawled on top of the table. “But it _has_!”

“It’s only been a few weeks!”

Lauren shook her head, “No, I’ll have to agree with Kym on that one. It’s been far longer than what I like.”

“Ha! See?” Kym smirked at Will. “She agrees with _me_!”

Will barked back: “That’d be a _first_ for anyone! And get off the table Kym, you aren’t five years old anymore.”

“Oh, god,” Lauren laughed. They still behaved like schoolchildren with each other.

She and Will had practically grown up together. Their families were _friendly_ with each other back in their childhood, but they quickly became _friends_ , since it was quite obvious Lauren found male playmates more enjoyable than female ones. When the stuffy banquets and dull parties were too much to take, the two would run to the garden, where with a bit of luck they would find Dylan tending to the flowers. The three of them would spend hours upon hours playing in the field, much to the dismay of Lucy, who was tasked with removing the grass stains from each one of Lauren’s dresses. 

Kym, however, had joined their little friend group when Kym and Will were both still officers. When Lauren had gone to meet Will at the precinct for a few drinks at a nearby pub, Kym had invited herself, much to Lauren’s amusement and Will’s annoyance. Despite being completely sober, Kym had asked if the Sinclairs and Hawkes had set up an arranged marriage for the two, leading to gags of disbelief from the two best friends, who saw each other more like brother and sister. When Kym’s hysterical laughter had died down, Lauren realized that Kym would be the first female friend she would keep, much to William’s dismay. The blue-haired fireball was here to stay.

The trio ordered their respective meals in the bustling restaurant from the waitress Kym insisted that Will had flirted with, which he adamantly denied. Neither of them was lying, but the waitress’ blush when she glanced at Will told Lauren there definitely was something that must have infatuated the poor girl. She chuckled under her breath as the two continued to bicker. Will had always had that effect upon girls.

She wondered what made Kym seemingly immune to Will’s unintentional charm. The Sergeant could be quite flirtatious if she tried, and attracted her own group of suitors every time she and Lauren had an outing. Was she really not interested in William? Or was she just really good at hiding it?

She snorted, spilling water upon the table at the thought of Kym swooning over Will, causing the officers to look back at her with twin raised eyebrows.

Will handed her some napkins. “Are you alright?”

Lauren chuckled as she dried the water from her chin. “It’s-” she giggled. “It’s nothing.”

Kym looked ready to pounce on her and pry answers from her, so Lauren changed the topic.

“I actually wanted to ask you all about the murder,” she cleared her throat, biting back the smile.

Kym lifted both eyebrows this time. “And you’re _laughing_ because of that?”

“Oh, no, no,” Lauren swatted the air with the napkin. “I just remembered something, that’s all,” she cleared her throat again. “I’m the prosecutor in charge of Lukas Randall’s trial.”

“Oh, that explains this lunch,” Will chuckled.

“Will, you’re so mean!” Kym pouted but still gave Lauren a suspicious look. “But _does_ that explain this lunch?”

Lauren gaped at them. “You _both_ are so mean!” they stared at her for a few heartbeats and Lauren sighed. “Alright, so it might actually be part of the reason-”

“And to think we were special-”

“Kym.”

“But I also wanted to see you guys, I swear,” Lauren smiled. “Two birds with one stone, if you know what I mean.”

“Mhmm,” Kym sighed dramatically, stabbing a pea from her plate and arching an eyebrow at her. “So what exactly do you want to ask us, miss prosecutor?”

Will groaned at Kym’s antics but urged Lauren to talk with a wave of his hand. Lauren shifted on her seat, pulling out her notepad and pen, clicking it twice as she readied her questions.

“Is there anything you saw in the crime scene before the investigation unit? Did you see anyone around?”

“Not really,” Will hummed, gaze focused in some spot over Kym’s head, who had thrown her head back like summoning the memories to return. “It was too early in the morning and not a lot of people arrive at the office at 6:30.”

“We had to call for the investigation unit, make them come early,” Kym added. “There were only a couple of them there. Their shifts begin at 7:30. Lucky rascals.”

“We were earlier yesterday because we had to get some paperwork checked by Hermann,” Will continued, lips pursed in thought. “I think the night guard had left already since there was no one at his post. And in the crime scene, there wasn’t much. A messy desk, Hermann, Lukas, and everything I’m sure you’ve already read at the documents they gave you.”

“What about Randall?” Lauren asked, tapping her notepad again, anxious to discover anything new she could use. “What can you tell me about him?”

Will and Kym fell silent, staring at her. They glanced at each other, seemingly communicating with their eyes alone, something they must have developed in their endless hours of patrolling or arguing over paperwork. Something electric passed between them. The way Kym subtly glared and Will lifted his eyebrows as hazel and blue stayed locked to each other, her lips slightly parted and his pressed together; it all conveyed a clear message an outsider like Lauren could not decipher. It was Will was the one to break eye contact, clearing his throat before replying.

“Well, he is… Something,” Will started apprehensively. “He’s a great officer and has an impeccable record. Always on time with his paperwork and never messes around the office, unlike _someone else_ -”

“She didn’t ask you that,” Kym stuck her tongue out to Will before picking up where he had left off. “He’s a little… grouchy.”

“I mean he _does_ look like he is constantly plotting a murder, but-”

“ _Willame_ ,” Kym shook her head, rubbing her temples. “Shut up. You’re not helping.”

“I believe he is,” Lauren arched an eyebrow.

“Ok, so Lukas is a bit of a sketchy fella,” Kym rolled her eyes. “But he’s definitely not a murderer. His death threats are just ways of expression when you deprive him of his coffee. I would be the same with my watermelons! I mean, if he was really a sociopath who went around killing people for fun or something, Lila wouldn’t have married him. Sweethearts like her wouldn’t marry such a horrendous kind of man.”

 _Lila._ “That’s the name of his wife? Lila?”

Will nodded. “They got married two years ago. Almost three now, I believe.”

Lila. It was a sweet name, and according to Kym’s word, she seemed to be a sweet woman. The poor thing. A sweet and devoted wife, whose husband was a threat to society. How could she bear to share a bed with him every night? Should she ask about the wife? Would she have something to do with all this story? Lauren pursed her lips in deep thought. Was this Lila really just the poor wife of some murderer?

The question slipped from her mouth before she registered.

“What can you tell me about the wife?”

“Lila?” Will frowned. “Are you dragging her into the mess too?”

Kym’s eyes shot to Lauren with a gasp. “Lila? She’s the sweetest woman on this Earth!”

“I just asked how she is,” Lauren sighed. “I’m trying to do my job here, it’s nothing personal.”

“Are you sure, Lauren?” Will smiled sadly at her. “I think you’ve realized as well the dates don’t match. Lukas is my age. Do you think a mere thirteen-year-old could’ve done that all those years ago?”

Lauren’s whole body tensed, and she swatted her hand in the air in a facade of nonchalance. “It's got nothing to do with that-"

Kym gasped, suddenly sobering up. “Oh, right. That.”

“Lila?” Lauren shook her head. Disliking the direction the conversation was currently headed, she changed the topic before it was too late. “What can you tell me about Lila?”

“She’s a secretary,” Kym sighed. “Used to work at the Precinct and was our secretary for the longest time before she resigned to work with an attorney.”

“An attorney?”

“Oh, yes,” Will put down his fork. “She’s his private secretary. We met him yesterday, he’s Lukas’ defense.”

 _No way_.

Lauren leaned closer to her friends. “Did you meet Kieran White? Randall’s wife works with him?”

She jolted down that information, struck with a sudden thought that it was too _easy_ , too _convenient_. Coincidences? She never believed in those.

Kym nodded. “She’s been working there for a while. Almost the same time she’s been married to Lukas, in fact.”

“I heard he’s an amazing attorney,” Will tipped his head to the side. “We didn’t talk much, but he was a rather… Imposing man. Doesn’t leave you indifferent.”

“Plus, he’s _devilishly_ handsome!” Kym smiled giddily, giggling like a little girl. “I didn’t get to talk to him much considering the circumstances, but I’ll have to ask Lila for his number next time I see her.”

Will looked exasperated beyond reason at her antics, making the same expression he always made when she flirted with strangers at bars for fun. Lauren had to bite her lip to stifle the chuckles threatening to escape as he chastised Kym over her obvious attraction to this mysterious man, realizing she was in fact friends with a pair of bickering children. Or a bickering old couple. Whatever it was, they seemed to love disagreeing on things.

The lunch concluded on a brighter note. Her questions had turned up rather fruitless: Kym and Will knew little besides what she had already been informed, and at most could offer her a deeper understanding of the Randalls, which did nothing to calm her suspicions and poorly concealed rage. A couple around her age with an unexpected relationship with a prominent attorney. The wife worked for Mr. White as his private secretary. One could say that was the reason White appeared under the hour at the APD, but it wouldn’t take a genius to suspect alternative motivations. Someone as acclaimed as Kieran White, and with the ego March described, wouldn’t drop his plans on the spot for a mere employee’s spouse. No, there was something else there. A connection that perhaps could be meaningful to her, and even more importantly, meaningful to her case.

Thoroughly warmed up from the crackling fireplace, she kissed her friends’ cheeks goodbye at the doorstep of the restaurant, watching as they walked together back to the Precinct. She heard Kym suggest watermelon juice to improve digestion, which earned a groan from Will. Her break was over. Once the comforting presence of Will and Kym faded, her wristwatch seared again, alight with memories and regrets.

She had promised many things, and those were promises she intended to fulfill inside a courtroom.

_This one’s for you two. Justice will be served, I’ll make sure of it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE PROMISED A SURPRISE AND A SURPRISE WE SHALL GIVE!
> 
> [The Moonlighters: The Files](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831047/chapters/66713341) is out for everyone to see! Take it as a kind of archive where you can find the documents (such as transcripts of depositions, hearings, and reports) so you can go take a quick look at it whenever you feel lost with what in the world is going on in the story. We spent a lot of time getting it right, so please go check it out or one of us (most likely Char, because she did all the formatting) will flip a table.
> 
> Chapters 1-4 were released today: Lukas', Will's, and Kym's depositions, as well as the Crime Scene Report (the documents Lauren had in the folder Tristan gave her).
> 
> * * *
> 
> *cue to Kywi shippers going feral*
> 
> Did we just write subtle Kywi before Lauki even met? YES. Why? Because we can and Kywi is cute. Lauki will meet though, promise XD It's coming soon, but everything is falling into place first. 
> 
> Buckle up fellas the opening arc is about to be done! All of this was just the premise of the story, what's coming is many, many times better, and of course a lot more sPICYYY.
> 
> Oh and next chapter you're also getting a dose of Lula oop-
> 
> We hope you've been enjoying the chapters! We're trying to make our productivity pace faster so we can post two chapters every other week, let's hope we can do that!
> 
> Don't forget to tell us your thoughts, and enjoy the Files, we've put a lot of work in those!


	5. Hospitable Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Captain Hermann?” he called, reaching for the doorknob.
>> 
>> A muffled gurgle was heard from inside.
>> 
>> Whatever was happening in there, it wasn’t good.  
> 

Much to Kieran’s dismay, Lila had refused to stay home with Lukas, who had decided isolation was the best solution to evade trouble.

Kieran had woken up on time for once, and his early arrival at the office came as a shock to most of the staff, judging by the doorman’s expression. When Lila strolled into the office a few minutes later, he had tried to turn her back towards the door and convince her to go home, but she was having none of it. Kieran was apparently a child Lila had to look after, and so she sat at her desk and worked as if it was just another regular weekday of her life. When she asked after their lunch to leave early so she could prepare their dinner that evening, Kieran practically kicked her out of the office, all too eager for her to go focus on something else that wouldn’t spike her stress level.

“Your dessert and wine are on me!” Kieran yelled at her from his desk, and she had laughed, which was music to his ears. Lila was taking everything with surprising calm.

_Must be the hundreds of cases like this she’s helped me with._

He was on the doorstep of the Randall-Desroses apartment at seven, carrying a box of black forest cake in his left hand as he shifted the bottle of sauvignon blanc against a delicate bouquet in his right. The cake was for Lila. She usually prepared something much less sweeter for Lukas and Kieran, because they couldn’t stomach the amount of sugar her usual chocolate cake contained. It was a sort of inside joke for the three of them. Lila had insisted on having their dinner here rather than at his place, claiming that Lukas and her enjoyed cooking together and would appreciate the distraction, so Kieran hadn’t tried to contradict her. He knocked on the door while tucking the bouquet into the handle of the cake box.

Clad in an apron and ponytail covered with flour, Lila opened the door and smiled widely at him. “Come in, Kieran! Dinner will be ready in a bit.”

She stepped aside to let him in as he offered her the bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of purple hyacinths, lavender, and babies’ breath. Her eyes watered and her smile wavered as she met his eyes.

“You two are victims of this mess as much as Hermann’s family,” he declared with a sad smile, and Lila took the flowers graciously, setting them into the glass vase perched on the pony wall near the doorway.

“Thank you,” she muttered, briefly hugging Kieran with one arm before taking the cake box and the wine from him. “I’ll go help Lukas with the salad, you make yourself at home.”

The couple’s home was rather small, but what it lacked in size it made up in homely warmth. Although the low ceilings always suffocated him a bit, the warm hues, the wide windows, the way the scent of cinnamon lingered in the air, and the sunlight that streamed in from the large bay windows and bounced off every corner of the apartment could make anyone feel at ease. It felt like a real home, the kind that now only existed in his memories. They had kindly pulled all the curtains open for him.

Abandoning his coat on the rack next to the door and slipping off his shoes as he walked into the living room, he caught a glimpse of Lukas and Lila fussing over a salad bowl. The couple wore matching frilly aprons, but while hers was a delicate Payne’s grey, his was a bright pastel yellow. Kieran snorted, causing the duo to glance over at him simultaneously.

“Nice apron, Randall.”

“Shut up, White,” Lukas grumbled while Lila burst laughing, adding a handful of sliced cherry tomatoes to the bowl. If looks could kill, Lukas’ murderous stare would have sent Kieran to his grave years ago. Not that he wouldn't have welcomed it, of course.

A set of purrs and meows caught Kieran’s attention as gentle footsteps tapped across the hardwood floor. Espresso and Cinnamon, which belonged to Lukas and Lila, respectively, rubbed against his legs, demanding to be petted. He crouched down to the floor, cooing incoherently at the two cats.

“Oh, be careful, they’re shedding,” Lila advised, wincing at the ginger hairs Cinnamon had already covered Kieran’s trousers with.

“It’s a pain to get their hairs off my uniform,” Lukas grumbled.

“Well, they’re certainly fluffy,” Kieran chuckled. Espresso jumped into his lap, sending his brown fur flying everywhere. Kieran coughed some hairs out. “Gosh, you’re right, they’re shedding a lot.”

“Get out of there before you get an allergic reaction, you idiot.”

“I’m not allergic to cats!”

“Lukas, the pot pie.”

“Oh, right,” Lukas’s eyes grew wide as he kneeled in front of the oven as he examined the three golden pot pies. “They still have a few minutes to go.”

“Kieran, did you hear from the DA while I was out?” Lila asked, giggling at the cats trying to climb to Kieran’s shoulders.

“The messenger came by after you left,” Kieran shooed Espresso from his shoulder, and the cat batted at his ear before leaping off, apparently offended that Kieran refused to be a cat tree. Cinnamon curled on Kieran’s lap and tucked her snout under her fluffy tail, shifting every few seconds to get comfortable. “I have the files in my briefcase. We have Judge Adila Themins, who you might remember from the Sato case. The prosecutor, though, I’ve never met,” he clicked his tongue. “Lauren Sinclair. I’ve heard of her, she’s quite established in the courthouse, and she’s also the DA’s niece. Weird how we haven’t encountered each other before.”

Lila gasped, pausing her efforts to clean off her ponytail. “Lauren Sinclair? Lukas, wasn’t she friends with Kym and Will?”

“She is,” Lukas nodded, sipping a cup of coffee that had appeared out of nowhere. “They’re attached at the hip, the three of them. Hawkes and Sinclair have been friends since childhood, and they befriended Ladell early into her time at the Precinct, apparently. I’ve never met Lauren, though.”

“Weren’t they the Lieutenant and the Sergeant that discovered Hermann?” Kieran questioned, to which Lila nodded.

“Yes, and you met them yesterday. They received us at the APD.”

“That means she must have interrogated them today,” Kieran hissed. “We’ll have to ask for the depositions, she must have them already. The ones the police took, at least. Do you think she could unofficially interrogate them, Lukas?”

“Hmm, most likely.”

“They’re friends after all,” Lila added. “She could simply ask them over drinks or something. I’ll send a messenger to the District Attorney’s Office for the discovery first thing tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Kieran clapped, startling Cinnamon, who left his lap with a huff. Shaking the cat hairs off, he continued: “The autopsy and evidence analysis should be done within the next few days, and I’ll request those as well.”

He stood up to help the couple set the table as Lukas placed the steaming pot pies on the table. Lila opened the glass cabinet to get two crystal wine glasses before setting them down near the ceramic plates, opting for a mug of hot tea for herself. Kieran could smell its fragrant aroma even over the pies; he'd have to steal some from her later to see if it was any good.  
  
“Alright, I’ll make sure to ask the messenger to send that message as well tomorrow morning,” said Lila, gesturing at everyone to sit, cats included. She set out two bowls of food for Cinnamon and Espresso as well, which they waited patiently for.  
  
As the trio dug into their pies, Kieran sighed before setting down his fork to grab a notepad and pen from his pocket.

“Well, Lukas, we might as well get this over with while the food’s still warm.”

Lukas nodded grimly, taking a sip of his wine before starting.

“Well, as you already know, I was found unconscious under Hermann’s desk with a vial in hand. I didn’t tell much to March, since I wanted to tell everything to you first. What happened was...”

* * *

The city of Ardhalis was barely waking up when Lukas walked into the precinct on the 26th of October, already knowing it would be a hell of a day _for some reason_ . He _hated_ leaving Lila alone in the morning without being able to make her coffee and breakfast-in-bed. Having to wake up before four in the morning to make it to the office before anyone else, especially the boisterous Sergeant, clocked in for their shift curdled his usually sour mood further. At least the place was empty this early in the morning. And quiet. Too quiet, almost, he couldn’t even hear the nightguards anywhere near.

He cursed in his mind when the first guard showed up, a smile too damn wide for someone who had to stay awake the whole night plastered onto his face. The man waved at Lukas and asked how his morning had been. Lukas tried to reply politely before stalking away; later, he would realize he had only grunted before making his way away from the poor guard. He didn’t even bother to apologize.

Lukas had to get some files from the Archives that morning, and since the archivist had a penchant for being obnoxiously nosy, he had decided to pay his visit before anyone could get in his way. He preferred to take the route that ensured him the least human interaction, which coincidentally happened to go past captain Hermann’s office.

Yawning as he mentally listed the files he had to collect, he passed in front of Hermann’s door… And paused.

Did he hear that right?

It sounded like someone was choking behind the door, letting out strangled gasps every few seconds.

 _Curiosity killed the cat_ , mumbled Lukas. He turned to glance through the glass panel centered on Hermann’s office door, barely able to distinguish the silhouettes of two figures inside the room. Both appeared to be male, with one sitting in the chair behind the desk and the other standing directly next to the first.

“Captain Hermann?” he called, reaching for the doorknob.

A muffled gurgle was heard from inside.

Whatever was happening in there, it wasn’t good.

Lukas flung open the door and halted at the sight of Hugues Hermann. The captain’s mouth was overflowing with foam that dripped in rivers down his cheeks. The man seemed to be choking on his own vomit, eyes bulging out of his skull.

Still glued to his spot in shock, Lukas turned just in time to see the other man’s eyes glinting in panic as he dropped the syringe from his fingers.

Before Lukas could make a sound, searing pain shot through his skull and he crumpled to the carpeted floor, bumping his shoulder and skinning his cheek in the process. He groaned as a second blow landed near his neck, fireworks exploding in his vision. As he faded into unconsciousness, he realized that yes, he really _should_ have stayed in bed with Lila.

* * *

Kieran gulped down most of his wine once Lukas finished his tale.

Lukas and Lila stared at him with equal expressions of bewilderment as he set the cup down and stared at his plate for a handful of heartbeats.

“So _that’s_ where you got that bruise,” mused Kieran, smiling down at his laced fingers.

“Well, Randall, I’m afraid that wasn’t very helpful.”

“Geez,” Lukas hissed, rubbing a hand on Lila’s shoulder as she tried to mask the nervous knot climbing up her throat. “Thanks a lot, that’s _incredibly_ reassuring.”

Kieran sighed, leaning back to explain. “Look, we all know you’re innocent. But your story, although true, sounds made up no matter the angle you look at it from. I’m afraid we have no evidence to back up what you said.”

“But I was found _unconscious_ in the crime scene,” Lukas pressed, leaning over the table towards Kieran, the fresh bruise on his cheek making him look almost like a cartoon character. “It’s literally the most brainless thing to do after committing a murder, for heaven’s sake. I’m offended they think I’d be stupid enough to stay there and… What? Knock my head against the desk to produce a bump for an alibi? _Take a nap under the desk as my victim agonizes?_ ” His voice gradually escalated with every line, approaching a yell as he spat out his final words.

“Lukas, stop,” Lila, who had buried her face in her hands, practically begged him. Lukas, who suddenly seemed to recognize where he was, rubbed her shoulder apologetically before inhaling sharply in an attempt to calm himself.

“Sorry, I-”

“It’s alright,” Kieran tilted his head with a comforting smile. “You’d be surprised at the number of breakdowns we face in this profession. Might as well be therapists, really,” causing the distraught couple before him to chuckle, and he was glad to loosen the tension in the room. "Your story is not useless. It’s the truth and, for starters, we have polygraphs to prove it. Since we’ll plead innocence, we can request questioning with a polygraph. Fair warning, though: It won't be easy to get and it’s not solid proof for a judge, but if we manage to get approved for one, it will most definitely _help_.”

“It’s better than nothing, right?” Lila grabbed Lukas’ hand, squeezing it tightly, both of them seeking comfort from the other. Giving, taking. He always felt a bit out of place when Lukas and Lila shared these moments, like he was intruding on something that he wasn’t meant to see. They communicated with glances only, comforted the other without even needing to open their mouths, and whispered loving words that remained a mystery to the rest of the world. They had a beautiful relationship. As their friend, Kieran was happy for them, but he’d never admit the pang of jealousy and longing.

Shaking away the thoughts swirling through his mind, Kieran stabbed his chicken pot pie before picking up where he had left off. It was foolish of him to allow distractions like these to cloud his judgment when the freedom of his best friend and the happiness of two people he loved like family were on the line. Lila _did_ chastise him constantly for his misplaced priorities, after all.

* * *

Lauren’s day had closely resembled that of a headless chicken trying to navigate a barnyard. Following her meetings with March, Kym, and Will, she had gone back to the office to briefly submit some paperwork and collect the documents she was looking for. She had skipped dinner (once again, much to Lucy’s chagrin), but she wasn’t particularly hungry, so upon kicking off her heels at the entrance, Lauren dashed upstairs before the exasperated maid could try and force food down her throat. She shrugged off her coat onto the plush bench at the foot of her bed, reaching into the baskets tucked underneath in little cubbies for a towel and change of clothes.

She turned on the shower, reveling in the steam that quickly rose from the hot water. As she stepped inside, Lauren closed her eyes. The feeling of water flowing off of her skin never failed to calm her. After her shower, she stepped out onto the cool tiles and wrapped the soft towel around her body to dry off before slipping on a soft white nightgown. With her hair now in the towel, Lauren retrieved her purse before cracking open her bedroom door.

There wasn’t anyone in the corridor, and a quick glance at the grandfather clock at the end of the hallways informed her that it was already 10:15 in the evening. To avoid being reprimanded once again by her uncle for not sleeping, Lauren padded gently towards her office door, a door down from her bedroom.

Settling down at her desk, she flicked on the lamp that rested on her desk. She laid the towel over the back of her chair, trying to catch the drips of water rolling down her still-damp locks, as she settled on the cushion to continue working.

She wasn’t convinced of her opponent’s formidability. In Lauren’s eyes, they were all the same. These defense attorneys were the reason why the citizens of Ardhalis couldn’t trust that they were safe in their own homes. Criminals went free on technicalities, and the people who defended them lived in mansions bought with sullied money. This _Kieran White_ was just as bad as the rest of them. Or perhaps he was worse, for enjoying the prestige he gained by preventing the evilest of individuals from facing consequences for their actions.

During her brief visit to the office, she had asked Charlotte to give her everything she could find on Kieran White. The Ardhalis Bar Association had displayed that he was currently 27, passed the bar exam at 24, and had attended one of the best universities in the country. Flipping through the case files that Charlotte had handed her before leaving the office for the day, she noticed that her friends weren’t exaggerating when they noted that he had never failed to reduce his client’s sentence or fine. To put it simply, they weren’t far off when they noted that Mr. White had never “lost” a case. However, Lauren noted that Mr. White, although famous for defending clients that appeared to be undoubtedly guilty, took an inexplicably small number of Mafia-related cases. The only Family his clients had suspected ties with also happened to be the Reaper Family, which was an intriguing moral guideline for a man who appeared to be devoid of morals at all.

Opening up a brief transcript of the folder labeled _Sato_ , she noticed that it must have been the case that March had been referring to. Despite the victim’s neighbors’ testimonies that they had seen “him” leave her apartment that night, the jury still found him _not guilty_ . Shaking her head in disbelief, Lauren couldn’t imagine what verbal finesse the defense attorney had displayed at trial to get _Adila Themins_ of all judges out there to declare him so. Even the expert who discussed the faulty lineup procedures couldn’t _possibly_ have managed to sway the jury that much. 

The other files told similar stories. With each case, Kieran White had managed to either suppress key evidence, use an expert witness to coat the prosecution’s arguments in a layer of doubt, or simply sway the jury and judge by appealing to his client’s most sympathetic side. His penchant for suppressing important evidence on technicalities and minor discrepancies from established police procedure made him incredibly unpopular with the APD. Lauren wasn’t quite sure _why_ March had spoken so highly of the man. He seemed to be the government's worst nightmare.  
  
However, his prowess as a defense attorney wasn’t what vexed her the most. Lauren dug through the tall stack of newspapers that were delivered to the Sinclair Manor daily. Ripping out the page she was looking for, she spread it out in front of her. _Victim’s Family Receives Purple Hyacinths Following Sato Case Decision._ Among the stack of old newspapers, Lauren easily found another four articles with similar descriptions. Apparently, the man had made a habit of sending _bouquets_ to the victims and their families; it wasn’t enough that he robbed them of a chance of seeing the perpetrators brought to justice. No, he had to accentuate their pain with a mockery of condolences, trying half-heartedly to hide the way he reveled in his success at the expense of others.

Hurling the newspaper clippings across the room, Lauren ran her hands through her hair, which had dried during the time she spent absorbed in her opponent’s background. As the grandfather clock chiming loudly through the manor, she stood up abruptly. Midnight had passed long ago. Her nightgown spun delicately across her ankles as she switched off the lamp, treading gently down the old hardwood floors back to her room.

Lauren didn’t need to know any more about Kieran White. It didn’t matter what Kym, Will, or even March felt about this man. It didn’t matter how intimidating her opponent was. Because he was just like the others. _He was just another sorry excuse for a hypocrite._ And she would make sure he regretted ever defending the murderer known as Lukas Randall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Kieran: *suppresses evidence legally*
>> 
>> Lauren: _**Smells like BULLSHIT**_
> 
> Hey there, Waters here! So, now you know how Lukas ended up taking a NAP under Hermann's desk. Literally, WHAT. A. GUY. You've also met LuLa's cats, who Lukas claims have "individual owners" (but we all see him napping with Cinnamon on him and ignoring Espresso). I hope you enjoyed that little piece of LuLa fluff! Kieran's most definitely envious, but as we all know...he'll have his own person to cook with sometime in the near future ( _how_ near exactly? Who knows).
> 
> Lauren should probably start sleeping more...and eating more...and not leaving her hair dripping wet in the COLD (my Asian friends, and probably some other friends, know what's up). On the bright side, you'll be seeing their first interaction quite soon!
> 
> The introductory arc ends here! Yes, it took five chapters, but there was a lot of ground to cover for the story to roll along! Believe it or not, we have revealed _nothing_ compared with what we have in store for you all ;)))
> 
> We also wanted to explain the Judge's name! Adila means "fair", "honest", and "just" in Arabic, while Themins is a play on Themis, the Greek Goddess of Justice and Divine Law. As Jovie's my baby, Adila's more of Giggle's baby (tho Adila has a quite limited-to-courtrooms spotlight). Things are gonna get spicy on Saturday when we update, so ;)))
> 
> Leave your thoughts below if you have any, and we'll get back to them!


	6. Eventful Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > A gasp was heard somewhere in the vicinity, but it had not come from either of them. He froze on the spot and glanced down disbelievingly at the dark stain consuming his shirt, barely missing his vest and jacket, which he hastily pulled off to prevent from staining, hissing at the heat of the drink.
>> 
>> Kieran could only make out a pair of stilettos approaching him as he slowly raised his head towards the stranger.  
> 

L auren was wide awake well before her alarm clock rang on the morning of November 2nd.

To the maids' surprise, she was dressed and running down to the breakfast table before they could even start cooking. She had forced herself to resist her urge to stay up all night preparing for the hearing and, for once, had gone to bed before midnight. Though she still failed to sleep restfully, she could at least say that she had been able to obtain at least 5 hours of “bedtime”. Lucy had nearly knocked over an expensive vase in alarm when Lauren leaped down the stairs, agile as a cat even in her almost-four-inch stilettos. It was a rare occurrence for Lauren to be so lively this early in the morning, and an even rarer event to see her waiting patiently at the table to actually have her meal, especially if she hadn’t had her caffeine yet. Inside the kitchen, the maids hurried to have breakfast served sooner.

“Ms. Sinclair!” Lucy gasped, placing the stack of plates she had been carrying on the nearest surface to prepare the table. She walked behind the animated young woman and softly brushed back her slightly damp locks. Quickly recovering from her surprise, Lucy smiled and asked: “Do you expect an exciting day, Miss Sinclair? What summons you from your bed this early in the morning?”

Lauren was a coffee cup away from bouncing on her seat, as excited as a child on a sugar rush. “The preliminary hearing for Hermann’s case is today at nine!”

“That’s almost four hours from now, my sweet.”

Lauren let out soft laughter, hiding her ashamed fidgeting. “I’ll pass by the office before, to get some things done so no one bothers me while I’m at the courthouse. Now that I’ve finished the two most active cases, and with such a little workload, I’m certain I can focus on today’s hearing.”

“Yes, the Master told us you’ve been doing amazing at the office, recently,” Lucy hummed, her fingers tucking strands of auburn behind Lauren’s ears in a gesture that revived childhood memories of her mother doing her hair. After Rachel Sinclair passed away, Lucy had gracefully stepped into that role and never once sent her to school without proper scarlet braids in her hair until she had gone to university.

Lauren smiled and nodded at Lucy’s statement as the maid finished brushing and untangling knots from her hair, placing it neatly between her shoulder blades to let it air dry. Lucy continued. “I hope you find in this case the fulfillment you seem to seek, my lady.”

Turning on her seat, she grabbed Lucy’s hands. The maid had dedicated her whole life to the Sinclair Manor and the small family that resided on it, a family of uncle and niece who only had each other left. Lucy had been there through it all. Even when she disapproved of Lauren’s habit of dismissing her own health. Even when it meant she’d be sleepless until Lauren and Tristan arrived home safely. Even when she had refused the pleasure and comfort of a family of her own and children that would be hers to raise; even then, she chose to stick with the Sinclairs. The gentle housekeeper had never tried to replace her parents but had rather chosen to quietly continue the family’s customs and practices. 

Lauren smiled up at the woman. While Lucy’s face was beginning to crease with age, her kind eyes glowed just as brightly as they did in her adolescent memories.

“Thank you, Lucy.”

Lucy chuckled and brushed Lauren’s cheek. “Think nothing of it, Miss Sinclair.”

Yuzi pushed the door of the kitchen open with her knee as she expertly balanced her silver tray that carried Lauren’s morning coffee, jolting the two women from their trance. Yuzi bowed respectfully as she placed the mug onto the wooden table, sliding a coaster underneath. Lucy followed suit by placing the dishes of breakfast into their respective places for Lauren and Tristan, shaking her head gently at Lauren’s serene expression as she inhaled the scent of her coffee. She sent her a reassuring smile before bowing and slipping back into the kitchen.

Lauren turned towards the french doors, admiring the glowing edges of the trees on the horizon alone in the dining room. She had an exciting day before her, and the hours couldn’t go by any faster as she drummed her fingers against the table in synchrony with the ticking of the grandfather clock. The soft light of the rising sun reflected her certainty that this was only the dawn of a journey she would follow to the end. Lauren was ready for whatever adversity could be waiting for her… After she finished her coffee.

* * *

Kieran was exceptionally grateful that he had taught himself how to cook. Lila had woken him up with a call early in the morning, leaving him enough time to brew his own tea this time and fix his own breakfast. He wandered around his apartment blearily, operating purely based on procedural and muscle memory. In his half-awake state, he had managed to shower, get dressed, and make an omelet with his usual tea latte, which he enjoyed as he perched on a stool, revising his notes.  
  
Despite having a plethora of experience with such cases, Kieran couldn’t deny his anxiety. After all, it was the freedom of one of his closest friends at stake. “You can do it,” Kieran murmured to himself, pounding his finger to his temples. “You can do it. Think of Lukas and Lila. They need you.”

They needed him.

He had faced cases far more complicated than this one. He didn’t need to prove Lukas was innocent, he reminded himself, and that had always been his strategy. Insufficient evidence. That would be his main argument. Only a lousy criminal would stay at the crime scene, not an accomplished police officer far too experienced to commit such an amateur mistake. The polygraph questioning passed with flying colors. The results had been almost too good for them.

He could do this.

Suave, good arguments, and charisma were and had always been the keys to his success.

Downing the last of his tea latte, Kieran picked up his things, slipped on his grey coat, and walked out of the apartment. The days were getting even colder, the leaves on nearby trees muted in the morning haze as Kieran strolled down the street and waved for a cab to pick him up and drive him to the courthouse.

As expected, Lukas and Lila were there already, both dressed for the occasion he wished to be more joyous than it actually was, waiting for him as they might wait for a guardian angel. Perhaps he was the closest to that for them right now. He kissed Lila’s cheek and hugged Lukas, and the couple, almost painfully observant, noticed the deep divots under his eyes and wondered with genuine worry if he would be alright, if he got enough sleep, if he ate well. They didn’t entertain his attempt to change the subject by asking about their cats but nonetheless walked into the courthouse with him.

Kieran prided himself on his ability to achieve a level of detachment from his usual clients. While he remained passionate about protecting his client’s interests, he had never allowed him to become emotionally invested in his cases. However, his relationship with Lukas led to anxiety plaguing his brain constantly, stealing sleep from him in jagged fragments. For some reason, his nightmares echoed with Bella’s harsh words from the Rhododendron, not allowing him even a second of peace as they seared into his conscience. He defended the guilty. He had let potential murderers, rapists, and mobsters back onto the street. He guarded the dregs of society that Jovie would send him, not daring to ask any questions about the circumstances of their charges for fear of her wrath. But Lukas was innocent. While his reputation did no favors for Lukas’ image, Adila Themins was thankfully not one of the corrupt and incompetent judges that operated entirely on the defense’s influence and notoriety. However, he wasn’t certain he could say the same for the prosecutor; after all, he had never encountered Lauren Sinclair.

The gods were fickle beings, enjoying their control over the measly mortals as they struggled unsuccessfully to escape whatever divine adversity was delivered upon them while simultaneously blessing those who forged through whatever obstacles were placed in their path. These beings were said to be fair, despite their constant meddling; they would balance the fair and the unfair, offering somewhat of an equal opportunity to all who knew how to make the most of their circumstances. However, they could be incredibly cruel at times. Cruel to a young boy who had everything ripped from him, cruel to the adolescent who was coerced into each and every action, and today, they had decided to be cruel to his attire.

Lukas and Lila had gone to get themselves some coffee as Kieran waited near a phone booth neatly wedged into the wall of the courthouse. There were still fifteen minutes left before their courtroom opened, but upon brief consideration, he had decided to slowly make his way towards the assigned room instead. He was rounding the corner, glancing down at his watch to confirm the time, when he was rudely interrupted by the bitter scent of coffee.

He had apparently decided to move in the same direction as whoever had just finished their call in the phone booth stepped out, disposable cup filled to the brim with dark coffee. Due to his haste, he hadn’t seen the stranger hurrying towards him, only jolting to a stop when said person bumped into him just enough to startle but not trip. Unfortunately, one couldn’t say the same about the coffee, which had deposited its contents directly onto Kieran’s striped button-down shirt.

A gasp was heard somewhere in the vicinity, but it had not come from either of them. He froze on the spot and glanced down disbelievingly at the dark stain consuming his shirt, barely missing his vest and jacket, which he hastily pulled off to prevent from staining, hissing at the heat of the drink.

Kieran could only make out a pair of stilettos approaching him as he slowly raised his head towards the stranger.

“I’m so, so sorry, this–” he stared at the woman standing before him, stopping briefly in his irritation to admit that she was gorgeous. She was dressed in a sharp black dress, white scarf matching her coat and gloves, delicate points of her black heels pointing directly towards him. However, none of this rivaled the keen glint in her eyes, two fragments that appeared to have been stolen directly from the sun to match the scarlet flames of hair cascading down her shoulders, curtains of scarlet framing her face. She'd be a vision in black and white if it weren't for the enchanting tones of her eyes and hair.

She reached for him apologetically, worrying her lip between her teeth in utter embarrassment, and he had to remind himself he should be mad. Oddly, he wasn’t. Frustrated and annoyed, perhaps, but not angered.

“It’s fine, ” he tried to assure her, attempting a polite smile as the cotton clung to his chest. _Goddamnit_ . “It was an accident and I wasn’t looking, _madame_.”

She produced a pack of tissues from her purse, which she offered to him in some form of an apology. He gladly took them and pressed on his shirt to catch whatever was left of the coffee so it would stop rolling down his skin. _This is uncomfortable._

“No, it was my fault, I didn’t take a lid and wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings,” the woman frowned, clearly ashamed and awkwardly reaching out partially as if she were trying to aid him, but was at a loss as to how. She fished more tissues from her purse, holding them for him as he failed to get the damp stain off. “I’m so, so sorry, sir.”

“No, really, it’s alright-”

“No, it’s not fine, I ruined your shirt,” if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed she wanted the earth to crack open and swallow her whole. She was fidgeting with the tissues. “Is there anything–"

“Oh my goodness, what happened?!” Lila rushed into his vision carrying a cup of coffee, but he was unable to distinguish the usual scent of cinnamon over the harsh scent that had been absorbed into his shirt. Lukas trailed slightly behind Lila, who hurried to Kieran’s side on her kitten heels to examine the damage. There was absolutely no way the jacket could hide the growing stain.

“Coffee,” Kieran grunted, gently pushing Lila’s steaming cup away from him. He didn’t need a second stain.

Lila hurriedly turned to Lukas. “I have a spare shirt in the car, in the trunk, can you go get it?”

Lukas seemed to be baffled at why _his wife_ kept one of _her boss’_ shirts in _their_ car but decided against pressing her further as he simply grunted and jogged towards where they had parked.

Kieran, however, did turn to look at her curiously. “Why do you keep one of my shirts in your car?”

“Because you’re a child!” Lila chastised, huffing as she took the jacket, coat, and vest from his hand, hanging them over her forearm as she snatched his briefcase as well. “I really can’t leave you alone for five minutes– The hearing! Go to the bathroom, I’ll send you the shirt. Go, go!”

Kieran stifled a laugh. “Alright, _mother_ , I’m on my way.”

The woman stood beside the duo, staring curiously at them as she waited for the interaction to end. Lila finally seemed to register her presence and blushed upon realizing she had been scolding Kieran in front of a stranger. “Oh, I’m sorry you had to see that, _madame_.”

“Quite alright,” the woman chuckled, glancing one last time at Kieran. “I really am sorry for this. Is there really nothing I can do to make up for it?”

“As you can see, my secretary has it under control,” Kieran replied, earning a huff from Lila as she folded the jacket and vest to keep them from wrinkling as she mumbled something about not being paid enough. He laughed softly and waved a hand to the flustered woman. “It was an accident. It could’ve happened to anyone, don’t worry about it.”

The woman glanced between the two and then briefly at her wristwatch, brows furrowed in thought.

"I'd insist on helping, but I have to be somewhere in ten minutes."

"Go ahead, _madame_ , it's quite alright," Kieran tried a charming smile, but he doubted it had the desired effect when his hands continued to run tissues across his torso. "My apologies for the coffee."

"My apologies for the stain," she bowed her head in polite farewell, before striding away down the hallway as her heels clicked on the marble flooring, leaving only the aroma of a forest fire and coffee in her wake.

When she had finally disappeared from his view, Kieran let out a groan and turned to Lila, dropping the grin off his face.

"I swear I'll fall sick if I have to smell this horrid coffee for another second, _please_ help me get this damned smell off."

* * *

Lauren had to use every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep walking and stop herself from screaming of embarrassment. She could barely maintain her usual confident stride as she hurried down the hallway. Why, _why_ , _heavens why_ hadn't she taken a lid with her coffee? She had spilled her drink over an innocent, unsuspecting stranger who clearly despised coffee, even when his polite smile suggested otherwise. She had almost cringed when his well-meaning lies started ringing in her ears, barely able to offer him the tissues in her purse for fear of dropping those as well. She also lost a perfect cup of coffee, her third dose of caffeine of the morning, which was meant to fuel her through the preliminary hearing.

Now she had no time to grab another cup for herself. Hopefully, _one she wouldn't spill on a man_. She had to check-in for the preliminary hearing and get seated in the courtroom, so there wasn't a chance to run to the nearest coffee shop and get herself a fresh cup. The clock was ticking, so she suppressed her cravings and made her way inside her courtroom.

Judge Themins had been assigned the case, which made Lauren infinitesimally relieved. Adila was a strong-witted, just, and wise woman whose main priority was and always would be the deliverance of justice. In her late thirties or early forties (nobody dared to ask), Adila Themins shone among her peers as a judge unmovable from her position about the importance of justice and fairness, and Lauren could state with complete confidence that the woman could not be bribed. It gave her peace of mind. She hoped that a righteous judge would give her an edge against her opponent. Did she dare theorize Kieran White went as far as bribing judges? Perhaps, one could never be sure.

Adila Themins also happened to be one of the handful of judges who'd reward her with a genuine smile when she walked inside the courtroom. As the regal woman strolled into the courtroom, empty except for the two of them, she sent Lauren a grin and waved her hand gently.

"How have you been doing, dear?" Judge Themins asked her, friendly smile at odds with her severe reputation.

Lauren smiled back at her. "Quite alright, _madame_. Not as busy as I'd wish, unfortunately."

Adila nodded to her, suppressing chuckles. "Not what I've been told, Ms. Sinclair. I see your uncle remains as unable to hold you back as always."

"Well, he is always the one who tells me I have to move on," Lauren shrugged. "I move on by working."

Adila shook her head. "No one believes that, Ms. Sinclair."

"I'm afraid no one does," Lauren snorted, placing her belongings on the table.

Adila glanced at the clock and released an exasperated sigh. "Mr. White should be here by now. Where in the world is he? It's the same story every time."

Judging by Adila’s tone, Lauren was quite sure that she was not meant to hear the last complaint. Was unpunctuality another characteristic of the infamous Kieran White?

She didn't have time to ponder about it, since the doors of the courtroom creaked open as three sets of footsteps came pattering in. She didn’t dare look up from the papers she had been re-reading as two of the trio crossed the barrier and the third took a seat behind the defendant’s side. The wife, she guessed.

Lauren kept her gaze low in a facade of indifference as Adila addressed the new arrival.

"Mr. White, challenging the schedule again, I see," a hint of amusement laced into her voice. _So Adila had already worked with him, before, perhaps even multiple times._

Mr. White _–Kieran–_ took a moment as he shuffled into his seat to reply.

"I'm afraid I was met with quite a mess outside, Judge Themins," Lauren stiffened at the voice coated in sheer amusement. It couldn’t be. Mr. White continued: "Regarding a stain and some coffee, _madame_."

Lauren's head snapped up and she turned to see the three people on the other side of the room, groaning internally. Of _all_ people.

This Kieran White, this mysterious man who had plagued her mind lately with his mockery of condolences and his impressive record, was none other than the man she had spilled her coffee on a mere fifteen minutes ago. Now, he wore a plain white shirt to replace the ruined old one, and she glanced past him to examine who she guessed was Lila. Finally, she turned to look at Lukas Randall. Murderers always knotted her stomach and set said knots on fire, but she could only stare at Randall for a half-second before she was meeting Kieran's azure gaze again.

He was holding back laughter, fist over his mouth as if he were thinking. His lips were pressed together as he failed to conceal his entertainment at the situation, not concerned a single bit that the woman he had encountered outside was his rival.

Now, Lauren grudgingly was going to have to agree with Kym: Kieran White really _was_ a handsome man. At age 27, his eyes sparkled with the mischief of a teenager, and his smirk could probably make almost any woman fall to her knees and revere him. Everything about him was sharp angles and rough edges, clothes pristine and everything in its assigned place, despite the hunch Lauren got that he wasn’t that perfect image all the time, guessing for the state of his raven hair. And his eyes. She had never seen eyes in that shade of blue. Almost teal, like a sparkling Caribbean ocean. No wonder Kym was so interested.

But no beauty could make up for the terrible tales she had heard, and so Lauren tried to recover her composure as embarrassment crawled up her spine, mind refusing to stop replaying the incident with the coffee cup like a lousy broken record. Lauren averted her eyes, cursing in her mind as she rearranged her already perfectly placed things. It came as a surprise that her cheeks had yet to flare up in shame.

It was starting to be an _exciting_ day, to say the least.

Adila did not seem to notice the exchange of looks or Lauren’s mortified expression. She wrinkled her nose at Kieran.

“I thought you didn’t like coffee, Mr. White. You reek of the scent of coffee, and usually, that’s Ms. Sinclair’s role.”

“Is that so?” Kieran smirked, his eyes darting to her only a little, humor dripping from his tilted lips. Lauren stifled a groan. He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Well, coffee and I have an interesting relationship, but it’s not like I don’t like it. I’m just more of a tea man.”

“Mhm,” Adila sighed, stepping towards the judge’s chambers. “Well, we can call everyone in, then. It’s about time to start this.”

Lauren couldn’t agree more with Adila.

It was time to get this show on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > **Lauren** : Lucy, really, it's alright, I'm not hungry-
>> 
>> **Lucy** : ASK ME IF I GIVE A SH-
> 
> Workaholic Sinclair has finally, _finally_ had something to eat. Thank goodness.
> 
> *hyena cackling* aND SO THEY MEET! Alright, Giggle here. So we wanted them to talk before the courtroom but they don't know each other and we didn't really want to start with outright bitterness. While we were writing the rough outline of this chapter (more than a month ago lmao) we wrote "Kieran and Lauren meet outside of the room, and they have a conversation" and Char said: "wHAT IF SHE SPILLED HER COFFEE ON HIM LMAO". So, we decided to embarrass Lauren and make her realize once inside the courtroom. We wonder if her face matched her hair :))
> 
> However, Lauren has half a mind not to rub the tissues on a _stranger's_ body. So let's evade that XD
> 
> This encounter will be an inside joke all along the story, as you might have already guessed XD
> 
> ALSO ALSO Adila Themins finally shows up! I _looove_ Adila because she is the epitome of righteousness, just like she's been described, and friendly with both Lauren and Kieran. She has a mutual respect type of relationship with Kieran, with little hints of distaste because she's had cases with him before...and has had to declare some of his sketchy defendants innocent.
> 
> Also, many thanks to _Silent Nightengale's_ **pigeonsatdawn** for additional fancy-formatting.
> 
> We hope you all enjoyed the chapter, do tell us your thoughts on this one!


	7. Rising Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Lauren, dear-”
>> 
>> “You will not believe,” she spat. “The asshole I met today.”
>> 
>> Tristan halted in his tracks on whatever he had tried to say, instead staring straight at her in the eye. One heartbeat of silence, two heartbeats, and five.
>> 
>> Then Tristan burst out laughing.

W hen Adila came back out of the judge’s chambers, both Kieran and Lauren had swapped into their professional personas. 

A small crowd had occupied the seats while they had been occupied with their notes, a mix of police workers, people she didn’t recognize, and of course, Hermann’s family. Will, Kym, and March sat in the three places directly behind Lauren. They had each offered different greetings as she looked back at them, her smile grateful but brief as Adila walked back to her place.

They both sat down after Judge Themins settled on the bench, both clicked open their pens and placed cream legal pads onto the desk.  
  
“At this time, the court calls the matter of Ardhalis City v. Lukas Randall, case number 01-H-4289. Will the parties please state their appearances for the record, please.”

Lauren stood, leaning forward onto the table. “Your Honor, Ardhalis City appears by Attorney Lauren Sinclair. I appear as Prosecutor in this case.” 

Following immediately, Kieran pushed his chair backward and smiled slightly at Judge Themins. “Your Honor, Lukas Randall appears personally with his attorney, Kieran White.”

She gestured at both attorneys to be seated, flipping through the pages placed on her desk.

“Are there any issues that we need to address prior to beginning?”

Lauren and Kieran replied simultaneously. “No, your Honor.”

“In that case, Ms. Sinclair, you may call your first witness.”

Lauren took a deep breath before standing, confidently stating: “State will call William Hawkes to the stand.”

William, who was dressed in a simple grey suit, walked towards the witness box. His gaze lacked most of his usual confidence while he was in the precinct, instead looking almost apprehensive.

As he was sworn in by the court clerk, Lauren stood up from her seat, flipping her notes to a page so neatly organized it appeared to be typed.

“Mr. Hawkes, I’m going to ask you some questions regarding the incident that occurred late-October. What was your relation to Hugues Hermann?”

“Captain Hermann was the captain of our precinct,” Will replied, lacing his hands in front of him.

“Could you please tell us about your experiences on October 26th?”

“Well, Sergeant Kym Ladell and I had arrived at the office at around 6:30 in the morning since we needed to get some paperwork _signed, and we…”_

Kieran dutifully took notes on the pad beside him despite having already read Mr. Hawkes’ statement. It always helped to be prepared for cross examination, and judging by the way the man wrung his hands despite holding his voice steady, Kieran supposed that his facade of diligence would put a little more pressure on his opponent. As his opponent continued questioning the lieutenant, he rehearsed his questions for his witness, spacing out every few minutes to remind himself of certain cues he had scribbled onto the cream-colored sheets.

* * *

Kieran smiled at Oliver March, whose ears were currently tinted pink with indignance due to his questioning. The case had gone according to his plans. Lukas had passed the polygraph examination with flying colors, and none of Ms. Sinclair’s witnesses had been able to answer whether they _knew_ that Lukas had played a role in the crime. Both had defended conflicting views. While suggesting that they, too, held a shred of suspicion for their coworker, none had been able to explain why Lukas would stay at the crime scene if he truly murdered Hermann.

“Nothing further, your Honor.” 

Judge Themins nodded. “Any redirect?” 

“No, your Honor,” replied Lauren, rubbing her right temple gently as she pretended to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She couldn’t believe that based on practically _one_ point, Kieran White had managed to fluster Will _and_ March. None of them had any discrepancies in their statements, but she was having a difficult time demonstrating Lukas’ guilt. After all, even _she_ had to agree with Kieran. Staying at a crime scene in an incriminating position _would_ be the worst thing to do after committing a murder.

“In that case, the witness is excused. Mr. White?”

“Call James Nichols to the stand.”

Lauren was intrigued. Kieran had chosen to call a singular witness to the stand: a middle-aged man in modest clothing who appeared to be too anxious of his presence in the room. Kieran nodded to him to reassure him and gestured to the witness box.

Nichols stumbled verbally as he repeated his oath, and stared down at his large hands when he sat down upon fulfilling the formalities for the record.

“Please tell us your occupation, Mr. Nichols,” began Kieran.

“I’m a baker,” stated Nichols. “It’s a family trade.”  
  
“Could you please tell us where your bakery is located?”

“We have two bakeries, but the main one, which is where I work, is located in the eleventh precinct near the police station.”

Kieran nodded. “And what is your workday like, normally?”

“Well, due to my profession, I have to wake up every day at 3:30 in the morning so I can get to the bakery by 4.” The man looked up from his hands, suddenly confident as he talked about his job. “Once I get to the bakery, I prepare the baked goods for the day. The staff arrives at around 6 a.m., and we open at 7. Before we close at 9 p.m., we’ll prepare the dough and let it rest so we can bake it the next morning.”

“Were you also at the bakery on the 26th of October?” 

“Yes, absolutely. I remember being a little early as well since we were releasing a new variation of toast.”

“Can you tell us a little more about that morning? Perhaps what you saw, if anything was out of the ordinary?”

“Well, as I said, I was early that morning. The moon hadn’t completely set yet, so the moonlight still lit up the streets faintly. I always pass by the police station on the way to the bakery, since it’s generally safer and well-lit.” James stopped briefly, pulling off his silver-rimmed glasses and polishing them on his shirt before placing them back on his face.

“So I was walking by the precinct, and I heard a faint rustling above me. It turned out to be a squirrel in a tree, but as I looked up, something else caught my eye. There were two figures in one of the windows of the police department. I could barely make them out, since it was still dark, but I remember that there were two silhouettes in the window.”

“Do you recall what time this was?” Kieran asked.

“No, not exactly,” murmured James apologetically. “But I do know that it was between 3:30 and 4:00.”

“Were you able to see what was going on in the room, then?” 

“I couldn’t see much, but they were standing quite close to each other. One figure was taller than the other, and they kept waving their arms at each other. I assumed that it was just two people talking to each other, so I didn’t stay to look.”

“Mr. Nichols, did you know at the time that was Captain Hermann’s window?”

James nodded. “I usually see the Captain in that window from my bakery. It’s across the street, it’s got a clear view of the whole building.”

Kieran stepped aside to allow James Nichols a clear view of the defendant table, where Lukas sat. “Did you happen to see Officer Lukas Randall that morning, Mr. Nichols?”

“Yes,” James stated. “He walks past the bakery every morning on his way to work, sometimes comes around to order something for breakfast. I see him and the other officers almost every day during lunch.”

“And on the 26th of October, at what time did you see Mr. Randall go to the APD?”

James took a second to recall, before stating confidently: “Around 4:30, sir. I know because I had just put some bread in the oven when he walked past the glass door.”

Lauren rubbed her forehead subtly in an attempt to calm the incoming headache announcing itself with pangs behind her eyes. From his spot near the witness box, Kieran was suppressing a smirk. It almost felt like a challenge, like he was trying to guess how in the world she would refute this testimony. A murmur of surprise fell on the audience.

“Just to be sure, Mr. Nichols, you’re claiming that you saw two figures through the window of Captain Hermann’s office _before_ you saw Officer Randall walk to the precinct, on the day of Captain Hermann’s death.”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly it.”

“No further questions, your Honor.” Kieran sat down, capping his pen as he smiled easily.

Adila didn’t even bother to look up from the notes she was scribbling as she acknowledged Kieran’s words and gestured to Lauren. “Ms. Sinclair?”

Taking in a deep breath, Lauren approached the witness box, standing a few feet from it as she looked down on the man. He was drumming his fingers against the back of his hand, clearly unfamiliar with the setting and intimidated by the woman standing before him and staring at him like an eagle would to its prey.

“Mr. Nichols,” Lauren began, earning a quick nod from the man, who gulped. “How come you’re so familiar with the routine of Officer Randall?”

“I’ve been working in the area for decades, _madame_ ,” James pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I’ve become familiar with the habits of people around me, watching them. I recognize the two officers that spoke previously as well,” he glanced at March and Will. “I’ve seen them for years around my bakery, and I’ve also seen the female officer sitting next to them.”

“You noted that you saw Officer Randall at around 4:30, when you had finished putting the first batch of bread into the oven, correct?” 

“Correct.”

“Are you certain that you didn’t see him before? Perhaps he had walked by already and you hadn’t noticed?”

“No, I was preparing the dough in the kitchen.”

Lauren smiled, glancing back at Kieran, who was looking at the desk as he scribbled notes, brows pulled together as he frowned down at the paper sheets.

“Was anyone with you when you saw the figures in the window? Someone who could confirm that there were indeed two?”

“No, I was alone.” James looked around nervously, seemingly afraid that he had failed in some way.

“Was it dark on the way to the bakery that morning?”

“Yes, it was. A couple of the lamps had broken a while ago as well.”

“Are you sure, then, that you were able to see _two_ figures in the window?”

“I’m quite sure-”

“There are curtains in Captain Hermann’s office. Do you recall if they were open or closed?”

“They were… Ah… They were half-closed, but I-”

“So they could have potentially blocked your vision?”

“Correct,” James sighed.

“No more questions, your Honor,” Lauren stepped back, satisfied, grin half-concealed with a flick of her hair to the side. From his seat, Kieran White glanced at her and tensed his jaw. She returned the subtle glance with a tilt of her chin as she sat back down.

_“We now call…”_

_You’re going down._

* * *

Murmurs filled the hallway as the small crowd left the courtroom, walking towards the exit of the courthouse. Lauren stood aside, putting her coat back on as she waited for Will and Kym, who were waving March goodbye as he hurried back to the APD for urgent business.

“I’m not that familiar with court procedures, but I think that went well for you?” Will asked, offering Lauren a new cup of coffee.

“It did!” Lauren smiled. “For starters, the trial will continue. That’s enough of a victory for me, for today, at least.”

“You were _so badass_ in there!” Kym squealed, jumping on her toes. “I’ll have to attend your hearings more often, it’s _so_ entertaining!”

Lauren laughed. “I’d be glad to have you both.”

The trio began to walk with the crowd, chattering on their way. Kym walked backward in front of Will and Lauren, smiling widely at her friends.

“I mean it! March told us about Mr. White’s reputation, it seems you managed to concern even _him_ ,” Kym laughed. “You did so well! Even if you’re trying to imprison my coworker.”

“It _is_ my job, after all,” Lauren shook her head, chuckling, before glancing at the both of them. “Does James Nichols really know you two? Or did Mr. White...?”

Will arched an eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak, but, as per usual, Kym cut him off before he could speak. She gasped dramatically. “Ol’ Jamie bakes the _best bread_ , even _Willame_ likes it! And you know how picky Will is about his food!”

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not here?” Will huffed. “And I am most definitely _not_ picky!”

“Sure you’re not.”

“We _do_ go to his bakery often,” Will admitted, smiling apologetically at Lauren. “So everything he said in there is the truth, at least about knowing everyone. Most of the people in the office go to his bakery for lunch or breakfast.”

“Why do you ask?” Kym tilted her head. “Did he lie?”

“No, he didn’t,” Lauren sipped some coffee from her cup before continuing. “But it’s weirdly convenient that Mr. White found him to give a statement, especially such a solid one.”

“Well, he did his homework,” Kym shrugged. “Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do? Prove Lukas’ innocence?”

“I see what you’re getting at,” Will nodded at Lauren. “But Mr. Nichols has been in there for longer than us. If anyone saw something at such an ungodly hour, it was definitely him.”

Lauren sighed. “I must admit, Mr. White chose an amazing witness. Unfortunately for him-”

Kym jumped in, grinning at Lauren. “- _you’re_ more amazing!”

Lauren laughed as they reached the doors, stopping briefly for Will and Kym to bicker over what they had to do after returning to the station as he opened the door for Lauren and Kym. She glanced back to the hallway and caught a glimpse of Kieran White talking with Lukas and Lila, carrying a serious expression as he spoke, gesturing sharply with his hands. Lila had a worried frown as she tucked herself into her husband’s shoulder, with Lukas’ arm wrapped around her waist.

When Lila turned to tell Lukas something, Kieran glanced up directly at her, as if sensing her gaze on them. Making eye contact, Lauren smirked at Kieran and slightly toasted her coffee at him; in response, Kieran rolled his eyes, scoffing slightly. Suppressing chuckles, Lauren walked through the door Will held open. She could not hide the grin of satisfaction that came from winning the first battle of her war against the _invincible_ Kieran White.

* * *

Lucy waited patiently by the door, hands demurely folded on top of each other as she took Lauren’s coat. Her eyes were questioning as Lauren tugged off her coat and bolted through the door, slamming the door shut.

“Hello, Lucy, is Uncle Tristan home?”

“In his office, my lady.”

“Great,” Lauren huffed, striding towards the staircase. “I need to talk to him.”

“Miss Sinclair, it’s time for dinner.”

Lauren smiled apologetically at Lucy from the second step of the stair. “I’ll come back down, don’t worry, but I _really_ need to talk to my Uncle.”

Lucy frowned, concern apparent in every crease between her eyebrows. “Did today not go as planned, my lady?”

Lauren hesitated, tilting her head side to side as she replied: “Not exactly… I mean, it went well, but there were some… incidents,” she winced as the embarrassment she had managed to keep down earlier crawled back from whatever hole she had shoved it into. A coffee cup, an unlikely encounter. And then, on top of the embarrassment, the satisfaction of having won the first round of the match. A smirk over the rim of a second coffee cup. Shaking her thoughts away, Lauren continued: “The day was quite eventful, to say the least, and I wanted to discuss Hermann’s case with Uncle.”

“Alright,” Lucy smiled. “But please do come back once you’ve finished, my lady, I don’t like it when you skip meals.”

Lauren laughed out loud, jumping to the next step of the stairs, while reassuring Lucy over her shoulder that, yes, she would come back down and eat her meal. Lucy’s worry was, in no way, misplaced. Back when she was still in law school, Lauren would go on days with a few granola bars or a handful of blueberries as her meals, and Lucy nearly had a stroke when she found out. After that, Lucy regulated her meals closely and made sure she wouldn’t skip them. Or, well, that at least she had _two_ real meals a day.

When Lucy disappeared into the living room, Lauren accelerated and practically leaped to the top of the stairs, running towards her Uncle’s office on the opposite end of manor. The thunderous clacking of her heels must have scared some of the staff below, but she was too eager to see her Uncle. Upon granted permission to enter Tristan’s office she burst in, huffing as she dropped her purse and coat on the couch next to the door and bolted to the desk he sat behind, flabbergasted, as she slammed her hands on the mahogany.

“Lauren, dear-”

“You will _not_ believe,” she spat. “The _asshole_ I met today.”

Tristan halted in his tracks on whatever he had tried to say, instead staring straight at her in the eye. One heartbeat of silence, two heartbeats, and five.

Then Tristan burst out laughing.

Lauren had only heard Tristan Sinclair laugh so heartily a handful of times. On the few occasions she had been present when he had been overpowered by amusement to the verge of tears, it would always be over the most ridiculous of situations. For example, when Lauren tried to cut her own bangs at eight, he and her father had laughed themselves to tears while her mother screeched over her butchered hair.

Apparently, her frustration towards Kieran White seemed to amuse him as much as her childhood failed haircut.

By the time he finally composed himself, Lauren had taken a seat in front of his desk, legs and hands crossed as she pouted at him. Tristan wheezed to recover his breath.

“I-” a snort interrupted his words. “I-I _warned_ you. I _told you_ he was something else.”

“But I didn’t think he’d be that much of an idiot, uncle,” she ran her hands through her hair. “I didn’t think he’d be arrogant and annoying to _that level_ . It’s humanly _impossible_ , Uncle!”

Tristan visibly bit his tongue to calm himself, hand flying to cover his mouth.

“What did he do?”

“ _What did he_ \- Uncle, he was so _irritating_ ,” she grumbled, glaring when Tristan jolted with a half-concealed chuckle. “I swear I was so close to strangling him on the spot, he wouldn’t stop smirking like he was the smartest in the room!”

With a grin concealed behind his hand, Tristan nodded and urged her to continue talking with a rotation of his wrist. Lauren didn’t need the invitation. She jumped to her feet, pacing up and down the office, her Uncle’s eyes following her as she walked to release her anxious energy, hands failing and mouth wide open as she talked.

“Not only did I make a total fool of myself when I spilled my coffee all over him-” Tristan burst into another fit of laughter. She glared at him. “Uncle, please! It was mortifying, and then he showed up at the courtroom, and I swear I haven’t felt that embarrassed in a long, long time.”

Tristan choked out: “I can imagine.”

“He was weirdly familiar with Adila, uncle,” she furrowed her nose. “It was so unsettling to see someone like her being nice and friendly with someone of the likes of him, someone so… So twisted and corrupt, when Adila is one of the most righteous women out there.”

“He’s had quite a few cases with Judge Themins,” Tristan explained, wiping away the tears of mirth under his eyes. “Mr. White’s charisma knows no bounds. He must have won over Judge Themins, and you know she’s actually quite a friendly woman.”

Lauren scrunched her nose. “It’s strange, nonetheless, that she’d be so familiar with him.”

“Simple human relationships, dear.”

“Oh! He was late to court!” Lauren perked up, remembering that she was dumping her frustration as she recalled Adila’s words. _Mr. White, challenging the schedule again, I see._ “That’s not a particular offense towards me, but a man with his reputation would know better than to barely make it on time, right? Then again, he did have to go change his shirt after- Ugh, after I spilled coffee over him.”

Tristan shook his head. “You can’t be mad at him for that, right?”

“I guess I cannot,” Lauren clapped. “But what I can be mad about is his words. Uncle, _he did not lie_ , not once, not even when he declared Randall innocent. He spoke with half-truths, rhetorical questions, it was almost like he knew of my ability. But that’s impossible, and it frustrates me even more than he managed to skirt my ability without even knowing about it!”

“Dear, don’t scream.”

“I couldn’t even look at Lukas Randall without wanting to puke, uncle,” Lauren shook her head. “He looked exactly like Kym and Will described him: dark, sketchy, and like he was plotting a second murder. I can’t believe they really let a murderer go just like that, especially when March had a say in the matter. What is _wrong_ with the Police?”

“Careful where you say that, Lauren,” Tristan warned her, wiping tear stains from his glasses. “Must I remind you your best friends are police officers? They were right when they explained he posed no further threat to society and in their right to let him go, and the man has been secluded at home since. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t,” murmured Lauren, pausing in her steps.

“Self-imposed confinement, Lauren,” Tristan sighed. “Guilty or not, he’s avoiding trouble and poses no current threat. So be careful with what you say, dear. I thought we agreed you would keep your personal agenda out of this.”

“I _am_ doing that, Uncle,” Lauren pressed, hands flat against the desk and hovering over Tristan with a frown. Halting, she tried again. “I’m doing my best.”

Tristan stood up and kissed Lauren’s hairline. “I know that, dear,” he parted and looked at her in the eyes, grinning. “Just don’t take things too personal, alright? And don’t let whatever Mr. White does or says get to your head.”

Lauren groaned. “I had almost forgotten.”

“Was he that rude with you?”

She huffed a strand of hair from her face, crossing her arms as she pondered if Mr. White had really been that bad with her. He wasn’t rude, she’d grant him that. In a situation where most people would make a fuss and demand compensation for ruining their clothes, he had tried to relieve her and assure her it was nothing. Lies, but he had good intentions. And upon entering the courtroom, although amused, he didn’t mock her. He didn’t try to interrupt her during the preliminary hearing, unlike other attorneys who deemed themselves of more importance than a city prosecutor. Despite his ego, he was respectful.

But then she remembered his previous cases. Bouquets of purple hyacinths, apology flowers, but meant as a mockery of condolences to innocent people. Someone who’d smile at her and tell her they meant “I’m Sorry” before laughing and moving on.

“Not with me particularly,” she finally admitted. “He was arrogant, just like I’ve been warned. It’s just… something didn’t sit right with me.”

“Hmm?” Tristan seemed interested as he sat back down, inviting Lauren to take her seat as well. She obeyed, and they both leaned across the table towards each other as if they were prepared to share a secret. Tristan tapped a pen to the desk, intrigued. It struck something in her and for a second she was transported to that morning, and how she wished to snatch that pen from her uncle and throw it away for bringing her memories back to the man she was about to theorize about.

“You see, Uncle, Mr. White strikes as an intimidating person, but it goes beyond what people could see about his abilities as an attorney,” she pressed her finger to her lips in deep consideration. “It’s something about his stance, or maybe the way he talks… Like constantly on the defensive, as if expecting anyone to attack him at any given moment. It’s that silent, strong, and intimidating aura he carries. And when he talks, it’s like he’s measuring every word he says and thinks twice of every phrase. That level of awareness is not characteristic of an office man. Do you know anything about him, Uncle?”

“Know something like what?”

“His background, his family history, anything…” Lauren shook her head slightly. “There’s something that gives me an odd feeling about him.”

“There’s not much about Mr. White because he’s a highly reserved man,” Tristan explained. “And you’re not the first one to tell me something like this. Lots of people have told me they find Mr. White’s presence intimidating, if not _scary_ ,” Tristan tilted his head side to side. “As for his background, I’m afraid there’s nothing interesting there, and his family history is nonexistent, for both his parents passed away when he was quite young, according to the reports and what little we’ve talked. He grew up in an orphanage.”

Lauren frowned at this information. “Did he not have any family to take him in?”

“I’m not sure. I never dug deep enough on him to know,” Tristan chuckled. “I do not make a hobby of stalking the city’s attorneys,” he said, staring pointedly at Lauren.

“And his criminal record? Not even a speeding ticket? _Nothing_?”

“Spotless, as far as I know,” Tristan arched an eyebrow. “The man is clean, Lauren.”

She cursed under her breath. There must be something on this man that made him so incredibly imposing. Somehow, although her uncle was not lying, she couldn’t help but think that he was not as clean as they deemed him to be. She, the girl cursed with knowing everyone’s ugly lies, was always one to seek the truth. To know the secrets. And thus, she would find out what part of Mr. White was the one that made her uneasy, but she would also follow her Uncle’s advice the best she could. She’d forbid Kieran White from getting to her head.

Stepping towards her uncle, she took his arm, pulling him up with her.  
  
“It’s time for dinner, uncle. We wouldn’t want Lucy to complain about our eating habits again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who know: Yes, this is _the_ James. Your confusion was hilarious, everyone like "wHo Is JaMeS."
> 
> Hello, Waters here! There you go, the beginning of professional banter. This is the start of the "trial" mini-arc (within the first large arc), so you'll likely be seeing a lot of these in the upcoming weeks. Make sure you check out [_The Files_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831047/chapters/67252717) for this week and have it on hand, since it'll become important soon!
> 
> Lauren literally is trying to dig up everything she can on Kieran. If she could, she'd probably insist on finding out what color suits he has in his closet, how many plates he owns, and she'd probably ask March to check every last ribbon to see if there's anything illegal in them.
>
>> Lauren: Oh, I don't know, maybe he dissolved cocaine in water and he steeped his ribbons in them so he's actually just delivering drugs-
>> 
>> March: Lauren, stop.
> 
> _Anyway_ , we hope you enjoyed the beginning of these two idiots fighting each other. Honestly, Lauren's the one doing all the fighting...Kieran's just obliging. Leave a comment if you'd like, we love each and every one of them!
> 
> Extra Craziness:
>
>> Kieran: _exists ___  
> Lauren: OOH BRO, COME AT ME BRO, YOU THINK I'M SCARED? *slaps chest* NAH BRO, YOU'RE JUST SCARED BRO-  
>  Kieran: I'm literally JUST trying to save my best friend-  
> 
> 
> _  
>  _(Ren, you just bumped into him. It's fine, _relax_ )_   
>  _


	8. Pitiful Precinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “You’ve got that look you have when you disapprove of something I did.”
>> 
>> Kym snorted. “You’re annoying.”
>> 
>> “And you’re getting easier to read. So, what is it?”

K ym's ears were ringing from the silence.

She had grown accustomed to walking into the Precinct and seeing Lukas’ dark cloud hovering above his head to the soundtrack of Hermann’s distant screaming, and without either of those, the place felt odd. No one dared so much as a glance at Lukas’ vacant desk, all his belongings still there exactly how he left them before getting arrested, and the yellow tape on Hermann’s door was a grim reminder that life at the 11th would never be the same again. Hugues Hermann had never been a crowd favorite, but he was still part of their routine, he was still their boss, and now he was gone like morning mist. When people lose part of their routine, it takes time to get accustomed to the empty spot. It didn’t help that Harvey’s former desk also remained unoccupied, and though Marlene was a nice woman, the recent events brought up memories of Lila’s time at the APD.

_Everyone is leaving._

With three missing members and nerves on edge, the patrol unit's once-lively office felt like a cage.

Kym greeted everyone with a smile, pushing the windows open to allow the chilly air in. There were mild complaints, but no one asked her to close them, so she simply plopped on her desk and shrugged off her jacket, hanging it to the back of her chair. Producing a slice of watermelon from a container in her bag, she sat on the desk as she ate, the office dead silent as if they were attending Hermann’s funeral.

Will was nowhere to be seen, which was strange, for he was usually one of the first to arrive at the office and slave over paperwork. Kym approached his desk. There was a half-finished report and a pen right next to a mug stain definitely from this morning, considering Will’s infuriating habit of cleaning them before leaving. He also hated leaving pens out of the drawer, and never left any unfinished paperwork where it could be damaged overnight. So he had definitely arrived at the office, but where had he gone?

“Sergeant Ladell?” one of the archivists had approached her without her noticing, and fighting back a yelp of surprise, Kym turned to look at him.

“What is it?”

“I was looking through the patrol reports we have to send to the Headquarters, for last month, and there’s one missing…” he showed Kym the list, handwritten, where a blank slot was occupied with a question mark in red ink.

_October 25th._

“We’re already behind on schedule to send them, but we can’t if we don’t find this one.”

Kym bit her lip, shaking her head. “Lukas was in charge of this one before he was arrested. It… should be at his desk, I guess.”

Sitting down on the chair usually occupied by the brooding officer felt weird, so Kym knelt down to search the drawers and didn’t dare look at the empty chair, choosing instead to rummage through the folders he kept inside the drawers. She tried the top one on the left, and when her search turned fruitless there, she attempted to open the bottom one.

Kym frowned.

It was locked.

“Officer Randall kept the reports in the top right drawer,” Marlene piped up from her desk, busy shuffling through some files.

“Oh, thank you,” Kym tried not to pay the locked drawer much attention, so she instead turned her focus to the mentioned drawer and produced a half-finished patrol report from the 25th of October. The archivist volunteered to finish it and disappeared, leaving Kym behind at Lukas’ desk pondering about the locked drawer. No one in the office locked their drawers. There was no need to do so. Not even Will locked his, and the blond man was almost paranoid. So what in the world would push Lukas to keep his drawer locked?

She tried it again, but it remained stuck.

Kym’s focus was drawn to the framed picture of Lukas and Lila on top of the desk, which was starting to collect dust. She took it in her hands, brushing off the thin film over it. It was a picture of their wedding day, one of the rare occasions she had seen Lukas actually smiling next to a beaming Lila wearing ivory silks and pearls. The wedding had been a small garden party, and she remembered being terribly honored to have been invited alongside Will and thinking from her seat that Lukas had never looked happier than he did that day, promising Lila endless love and protection.

She set the picture back to its place, glancing at the locked drawer one last time.

Kym knew Lukas wouldn’t risk that happiness like that. At least, she hoped he wouldn’t.

Will proved to be a good distractor from the enigma when he walked into the office, muttering greetings to Marlene as he walked to his desk.

“Why do you look like you just were tasked to clean the clogged drain?” Kym asked, following him. Will sent her a disgusted glance as he sat down. Kym leaned on the desk to his left as he picked up where he had left his paperwork.

“The Precinct is a mess,” Will sighed, rubbing his forehead. There were faint purple marks under his eyes, which she had almost never seen before. “Hermann’s death sent everything haywire. No one was prepared to lose the Captain on such short notice and my fath- I mean, the Chief has yet to announce who’ll take over Hermann’s position.”

“I thought March was trying to keep the place together, as Head Detective.”

“Well, you said it yourself, he’s the Head Detective. And his hands are full already with the current investigations, so he’s asking for my help to keep everything in order” Will blinked at the stain on his desk sighed, and stood up again. “I need some coffee. Do you want some too?”

“I’ll go with you,” Kym leaned closer to him, subtly, so no one would catch when she whispered to him: “I’m worried about something.”

* * *

“A locked drawer?”

Kym sighed. “I don’t want to think too much about it, but it’s concerning anyway. Why would Lukas have a locked drawer?”

“Do you think he’s hiding something?”

“God, no!” Kym shook her head, placing her mug down. They were sitting at one of the tables in the breakroom, talking while they sipped on coffee. “I trust Lukas. I know the kind of guy he is, and he definitely isn't a murderer.”

Will nodded. “I agree, Lukas would never. Then why does it worry you?”

“I don’t know,” Kym shrugged. “Maybe it’s nothing and I’m just overreacting.”

“Wouldn’t be a first.”

“ _Oi._ ”

Will chuckled, taking another gulp of his coffee. Huffing, Kym continued. “It’s weird, though, that we never knew he kept it locked.” She drummed her fingers against the table before suddenly jerking her head up.

“Do you want to pick the lock?”

“No, _thank you_ ,” Will rolled his eyes, rebuffing her _excellent_ idea immediately. “I don’t want to face a complaint about property damage.

“You’re no fun.”

Will stared at her as she sipped her coffee, before mumbling: “I’m quite sure if we ask the janitors we can get a key.”

Kym laughed before dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand. “We can’t do that, March would find out immediately and we both know we’re not supposed to meddle with the IU.”

“Good point,” Will hummed for a second before suggesting: “We could tell them we’re looking for some paperwork.”

“William Hawkes, are you suggesting _we lie to them?_ ” Kym gasped dramatically. “What happened to the righteous, stuck-up Lieutenant I know? What have you done to him?”

“Fine, we won’t look into the drawer then!” William grumbled. “And who says I’m _stuck-up?_ ”

Kym raised both eyebrows and took a sip from the cup, steam billowing over her face. “Everyone who doesn’t live in a mansion.”

“I don’t live at my family home anymore, Kym, and that’s _very_ rude of you.”

Kym stuck her tongue to him. “You can’t take a joke.”

Will rolled his eyes again, releasing a breathy chuckle.

“Also, as you kindly told Lauren when Lukas was arrested, he turns in all his paperwork on time, so that excuse wouldn’t work to get the key. We could just steal it.”

“We’re not stealing anything, we’re police officers.”

“Fine, borrow it without anyone finding out.”

“God, just forget about the drawer.”

Grabbing the coffee pot, Will poured himself another cup of coffee. Kym stared at him for a few seconds before talking again.

“I’m also worried about Lauren.”

Will glanced at Kym again, sighing. “I am too.”

“I have this horrible feeling she’ll end up doing something reckless for this case,” Kym frowned. “And she might try to deny it, but she’s definitely taking this too personally.”

“Lauren is… quite temperamental,” Will hissed. He remembered clearly every time she’d snap at kids in the play yard for picking on Dylan because he liked flowers, or shoo away the girls who tried to pull Will’s hair because it ‘looked soft’. Even better, as an adult, he remembered every time she told him she had stormed out of a date just because some man had decided to lie to her face, or even better, because the idiot would invariably call her eyes _pensive_. “She tends to allow her emotions to rule her far too often. It makes her quite blind, contrary to what her reputation suggests.”

“Do you think she’ll do it?” Kym asked, pressing a fist to her lips. “Do you think she’ll throw Lukas in jail?”

Will stared at her. In the past, Kym had been unreadable for him, always masking her emotions behind a veil of humor and dramatic approaches. But she had dropped her walls around him, if only a little bit. He had become really, really familiar with her expressions to certain emotions, and her pursed lips and furrowed brow read worry from every angle. Sighing, he put the mug down.

“If I were to be totally honest… I think she could. Lauren’s got years upon years of preparation and experience, she’s an amazing Prosecutor, and we both know she’s stubborn as a bull. So, yes, I think she could do it.”

Kym sighed. “Well then… Well, I guess I’ll have to rely on Mr. White to save Lukas from this one.”

Will patted Kym’s hand, in some kind of attempt of comfort. “We both will have to.”

* * *

For lunch, they left the APD and crossed the street. The small bakery that belonged to James Nichols always welcomed them with open arms, with a homely smell of fresh bread, powdered sugar, and fruits. The man and his wife were mellow people, and their sons would oftentimes come around to help with their small kids. _Pennies, Dimes, and Nichols_ was a place that truly felt like home.

Always a step ahead of her, Will pushed the door open, almost on instinct, stood aside to let Kym in.

“Did you take classes to be a gentleman or something?”

“Would you believe me if I said I did?”

Kym blinked at him as he closed the door. Will looked at her in the eye, and Kym raised both eyebrows. “I was kidding.”

“I’m not,” Will shrugged. “I had plenty of tutors as a kid.”

“Wow,” Kym chuckled. “What else did they teach you?”

“Protocol, dining manners, speech, dancing…”

“You dance?”

“We’ve been to balls before, Ladell, you know I do.”

Giggling, Kym left the door and strode to the counter. The bakery, although small, was often occupied with people buying warm bread and pastries, and whenever they came, there would be a handful of people around the counter ordering James’ latest creations or huddled on the tables munching on cake slices. Today was no different, but the five other patrons were not enough to hide the hushed argument James was having by the window with a haggard-looking woman. Kym exchanged a glance with Will before they both approached.

“Ma’am, this really doesn’t have to be a problem. Please, it’s only a few pence. Pay for the bread and you can leave.”

“I already paid.”

James’ brows furrowed. “Ma’am-”

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Nichols?” Will spoke up, standing between the two of them with Kym trailing behind. The woman looked even more exhausted up close, her coat and clothes clearly tattered and not very useful for the cold outside, judging from her pink fingers holding a loaf of bread. The woman’s eyes widened at the sight of the two officers.

James looked at Will with an apologetic expression. “It’s nothing, Lieutenant. Please, go ahead and ask Carol for your lunch.”

“We’re here to serve, Mr. Nichols,” Will looked at the woman, lieutenant persona once again surrounding him. “Ma’am, please pay the good man for the bread. Let’s not make a big deal out of this.”

The woman was terrified, staring at Will’s uniform, and muttering choked apologies she rummaged through her pockets. Kym noticed the tremor on her hands and the wetness of her eyes as she pulled a tiny coin that most definitely didn’t cover the price of the loaf, but she still offered it to James, who took it with a sad smile and sent her on her way before Will could protest. Kym exchanged a knowing glance with James as Will spoke up.

“I’m pretty sure she just stole from you, Mr. Nichols.”

“It’s cold outside, Lieutenant, I do not have the heart to bother her for a mouthful of bread,” he patted Will’s shoulder. “But thank you either way. I’ll get your lunches ready.”

Kym smiled at James as he left, and Will was quick to guide her to a table, earning himself a quick quip when he even pulled the chair for her. For a few seconds, they sat in silence, but then Will turned to her and arched an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got that look you have when you disapprove of something I did.”

Kym snorted. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re getting easier to read. So, what is it?”

“I don’t think you should’ve gotten involved with the poor woman. She was clearly hungry and desperate.”

“It’s not a reason to steal.”

“It isn’t, and don’t get me wrong, you weren’t rude or anything. But it wasn’t that big of a deal for you to get involved. I’m sure Jamie had it under control”

“It’s our duty,” Will lowered his gaze. “It’s what’s expected of us, and it’s what I have to do.”

For some reason, it didn’t feel like he was talking about the bread.

Sending him a quick smile, Kym sat back and tried to divert the conversation topic into something merrier, but Will had fallen silent and wasn’t too willing to engage in any discussion. When James brought them their food, she invited him to sit down with them, which he accepted graciously. He offered them matching sandwiches, apple juice for Will, and of course, watermelon juice for Kym.

“You know me too well, Ol’ Jamie!” Kym laughed, tipping the cup back to take a long gulp.

“I’m proud to say I know my clients,” James laughed. “How have you two been? You haven’t come here for lunch in a week.”

“There’s too much work to do at the Precinct,” Will replied. “We’ve been too busy since Captain Hermann passed away.”

“And how’s that going? The case, I mean.”

“Don’t you have to attend tomorrow’s hearing?” Kym asked before taking a bite of her sandwich.

James shook his head. “No, I was not called for that one. I have to go on Thursday.”

“Will has to testify tomorrow before the jury.”

“Did you rehearse it?”

Will blinked twice at James. “Pardon?”

“Ah, Mr. White’s secretary advised me to rehearse my testimony,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My encounter with the prosecutor was… Scary,” he laughed. “So I was advised to practice my testimony so I wouldn’t feel as nervous as I did the first time.”

Once again, Kym and Will exchanged knowing looks, before they turned back at James. It was a perfect chance. Kym was the one to speak up.

“Say, Jamie…” she grinned at him. “How did Kieran find you?”

“Kie- Oh, you mean Mr. White?”

“Yes,” Will nodded. “We were curious, how did he end up here, contacting you for Lukas’ defense?”

James laughed. “He didn’t! I didn’t meet Mr. White until the day of the hearing.”

Perhaps, if James hadn't found their question hilarious, he would’ve noticed the shadow that coated Kym’s and Will’s faces. Out of all the things they were expecting him to say, they did not think for a second that he’d respond with that.

Kym tried to bring the corner of her lips up. “Then how did he know about you?”

“Hmm, a man was the first one to contact me,” James explained. “A man with a scarred face. His name was something with… Ah! Sake! Tim Sake, I believe. He was asking me about Captain Hermann when he came in one day. I remember because Carol and I were experimenting with a new Japanese-style sake bread. He handed me his business card, and I had asked him how to pronounce it,” James chuckled, shaking his head. “He told me he worked for a case and that he was in charge of witnesses, put me in contact with Mr. White’s secretary. She was the one who helped me out. I didn’t actually meet the man until the day of the hearing.”

Will frowned. “Tim Sake?”

“Yes, do you know him?”

“Not really,” Kym glanced at Will, who met her eyes briefly. “That’s the problem. Does it ring a bell for you?”

“No,” Will leaned back. “I don’t think I’ve heard his name before.”

“So this Tim Sake just came to you and asked you if you knew about Hermann, Jamie?”

“He was here at the bakery,” James replied. “It was casual talk, you know, between me and a customer, nothing much. He had the newspaper with him and asked me if I had seen anything, so I told him,” he shrugged. “He said what I saw that day could save an innocent, so I did it.”

“I see…” Kym whispered.

Perhaps Lauren had been right not to trust Kieran White. It occurred to Kym that maybe Lauren wasn’t so far off when she said there was something weird about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was definitely there.

When they left the bakery, there was still a tense silence lingering between the two of them as they crossed the street to get back to work. It wasn't until they were safe at the other sidewalk that Kym spoke up.

“Will, there’s something I don’t like about this.”

Will placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent way of telling her he was listening and urging her to continue.

“Hermann’s death… No, Hermann’s _murder_. It’s already weird in itself. For starters, what was Hermann even doing at that time here?” Kym bit her thumb. “Why was he here? How come no one saw or heard anything? There are night guards here every night. Was Lukas really here _just_ to finish paperwork? Hell, even March has a point. I’ve never taken that route to go to the archives, why did he even go that way? What did he need from the archives?”

“What are you trying to say, Kym?”

She took a deep breath.

“There’s something deeper to this whole ordeal, Will. Something messier.”

She glanced up to the left, where Hermann’s window was located, curtains fully closed. Kym gulped.

“I don’t like it one bit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
> Waters: HEY GIGGLE. GIGGLE. I KNOW HOW TO NAME THE BAKERY.
>> 
>> Giggle: Yes?
>> 
>> Waters: _Pennies, Dimes, and Nichols_
>> 
>> Giggle:
>> 
>> Waters: Do you get it-
>> 
>> Giggle: Yes. I get it. Gosh, that's so dorky... I LOVE IT HAHAHA-  
> 
> 
> HIII! Giggle is talking, bringing to you a Kym and Will centered chapter. Why? Because she's tired of people putting them down, especially Will.
> 
> Oh, and it has something to do with plot or whatever.
> 
> Fun fact: This episode was, in fact, not in our original plan of the story. The events in it, however, _were_ , but we hadn't decided where to put them. And after a realization while working in chapter 10 that KyWi didn't have enough screen time (and that the trial was moving a tad too fast for our liking, making the pace kinda wonky), we crafted this episode and put it here. In the end, this is where it belonged all the while. We have no idea why we didn't do this earlier, the events happening here belonged here, in this exact spot of the story, and nowhere else.
> 
> Have you ever heard that saying that in a Mystery story, no one is fully innocent? Think of the details thrown in here. Bask in them. No one is truly innocent, keep that in mind.
> 
> NOW THAT I'VE MESSED UP YOUR MINDS–
> 
> There is _foreshadowing_ in this chapter, and it'll make sense in like... 15ish chapters? Once you're there, you'll catch it. Good luck until then, trying to figure out what I mean with that XD
> 
> Ohoho writing this is so much fun.
> 
> Anyway, it seems Timmy survived Jovie's rage, and oh? James met him? What is this?
> 
> KyWi worried over Lauren>>>>>
> 
> KyWi noticing the little things about each other like the oblivious fools they are>>>>>
> 
> Kym holding all the brains in the story>>>>>
> 
> Do tell us your thoughts! We are eager to know what you can make from this chapter ;))


	9. Concerning Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Ah, sweetheart , your sentimentalism will be your downfall.”
>> 
>> “Perhaps,” Kieran rolled his eyes. “But it really doesn’t concern you, now does it? After all, whether I fly or plummet won’t be your problem anymore.”
>> 
>> “I will never understand, Kieran. Why do you insist on flying on chipped waxwings when I could provide you with durable metal ones? Won’t you even consider being our legal consultant, Icarus?”

T he clock chimed once, almost indignantly. Kieran was still awake.

Though it wasn’t a regular habit of Kieran’s to stay awake into the meek hours of the morning, it appeared to become part of his routine following Lukas’ arrest. His sleeplessness wasn’t for the lack of trying; no, he had tried very fervently to fall asleep, tossing and turning in bed for a solid hour before finally giving up with a huff. If insomnia decided to ruin his night, he’d at least try to get some work done. Lukas’ first jury trial hearing was tomorrow. Though he was already incredibly well-prepared, he couldn’t resist the temptation to go over his words again, mumbling his opening statement to himself.

_...I implore each one of you to-_

Kieran was interrupted by his phone ringing just as he was about to finish the first rehearsal of his statement.

_Who in their right mind would call_ me _at 1 a.m., do they-_

He stalked over to the ringing phone, picking it up and holding it to his ear, free hand on his hip impatiently.

“Kieran White speaking, _how may I help you?_ ”

“Ah… Kieran, how _very_ nice of you to pick up,” replied the feminine voice through the receiver.

Kieran tensed. He wasn’t expecting to have this call again so soon, and he most definitely wasn’t prepared to have it the night before the first trial hearing of one of the most important cases of his life.

“Jovie, it’s _terribly_ lovely to hear your voice again. What can I help you with?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“You _know_ why I’m calling, Kieran. Don’t be smart with me,” Jovie stated. He could almost hear her twirling a strand of her hair through the telephone. 

Though Kieran had no patience for the woman, he forced himself to sit in the plush armchair near the table where the phone rested.

“Well, Jovie, are you going to say anything else? Or were you simply calling to ask about the progress of the case? I can assure you that I’m doing quite well-”

“Still as stubborn as ever to remain unassociated, aren’t you?” murmured Jovie, gentle laughter laced with disgusted disbelief.

Kieran chose not to respond, instead waiting for her to continue. He learned long ago to not give _Ms. J_ any material to work with, and his years of law school and training as an attorney had drilled his right to remain silent into his brain.

“You know, _Kiki_ , I really don’t approve of this case.”

Biting back the exasperated sigh threatening to escape his lips, Kieran reclined back into the armchair. “Well, we agreed I could be independent of you as long as I defended the people you sent me, which I do. I am my own person, and so I can choose to defend anyone I wish as long as I don’t violate your interests, _Vivi_.”

“You’re defending a police officer, I think that’s the _definition_ of ‘against my interest’.”

“Look, Jovie. I really don’t care what ‘your interests’ are when it comes to Lukas Randall, and you know that,” stated Kieran matter-of-factly. “Plus, he’s not doing anything against you. It’s not like he’s a Viper spy or something, so no, I don’t think I’ll be budging on that one.”

Growing up with the infamous Ms. J gave him a crystal clear image of how she was currently positioned despite not being able to see her: seated in a large leather chair, legs crossed at the knees, skirt splayed out onto the cushion. He knew that the phone was pressed between her shoulder and ear as she played with the chord, mocking disdain dripping from her pomegranate lips. 

“Ah, _sweetheart_ , your sentimentalism will be your downfall.”

“Perhaps,” Kieran rolled his eyes. “But it really doesn’t concern you, now does it? After all, whether I fly or plummet won’t be your problem anymore.”

“I will never understand, Kieran. Why do you insist on flying on chipped waxwings when I could provide you with durable metal ones? Won’t you even _consider_ being our legal consultant, Icarus?”

“No,” he spat, crossing his legs abruptly so that his heel stomped against the floor. Thank god the apartment below his had been recently unoccupied. “Not even for a second, Jovie. Because metal heats up in the sun. I’d rather not _burn my flesh_.”

At this point, Jovie had finished coating her words in sugar, rolling them around like snickerdoodle cookies ready to be popped into an oven. Her voice dropped to a deadly calm whisper as she continued.

“ _You_ of all people should know what happens to people who don’t _reason_ with me, White. Don’t press my limits. You better pray that you don’t do _anything_ that violates our deal...we wouldn’t like for the contract’s fine print to come into play, _would we_?” 

Kieran laughed bitterly, hand running through his hair. “Is that a _threat_ ? I’m afraid that you’ll have to be prepared to shred that last page of the contract. There is _zero_ chance that I would ever work for the Anemone Corporation. You can call as often as you like, and I’m sure you find it terribly entertaining, but it will never, _ever_ , change my standpoint. You also forget that you’re not the only one with other people’s skeletons hanging in your closet. I bid you goodnight, Ms. Brenner. Have a pleasant evening.” 

With that, he set the receiver down with a _click_.

Wholly awake and not in the mood to sit back down at his desk to work, he chose the next best option to calm the thoughts pummeling his skull. He hadn’t had much time lately to practice his hobby, but ever since the incident at The Rhododendron and the _talk_ he had shared with Bella three weeks ago, he hadn’t been able to stay away from the comfort it brought him. He never found himself at his desk for any other reason; it was always those damn _families_ that brought him back time and time again into that stiff wooden chair tucked away in the corner of his room.

Walking over to the drawing desk placed in front of a full-length window facing Ardhalis’ beautiful nighttime scenery, Kieran didn’t really have time to register the moment he sat down on his chair before he smelled the homely scent of sketching paper and heard the scratch of graphite. Before he could register it, two faces were breathed into life before him. Short, soft curls brushed a delicate neck adorned with pearls. Sharp lines, tapered off ever so slightly at the edges, built a grim face that lit up at the sight of only one person. Marriage bands wrapped around ring fingers. Soft smiles, loving glances, adoration, and pure, _pure_ love. Lila and Lukas, standing in their wedding attire that he remembered so vividly, almost a perfect copy of the photograph sitting on his bedside table. He hadn’t needed to refer back to it, as he had sought comfort in the warm glow that seemed to emulate from his memory all those years ago.

Closing his eyes, he could hear their laughs as clearly as the day he had sat in the front row of his childhood friend’s wedding, grinning almost as wide as the groom himself. He heard Lukas introduce him to Lila as _his_ best friend, and her kind smile as Lila expressed how pleased she was that she was _finally_ meeting the man her husband simply couldn’t stop talking about. They were so _genuine_ , so _real_ , so _overwhelmingly human_. Next to them, he was able to momentarily be blinded by their brightness, temporarily unable to see the blood and tears of the innocent on his hands. Although not blood he had personally spilled or tears he had personally brought forth, he had allowed these crimes to go unpunished, allowed these pains and sufferings to be for naught. 

It never ceased to amaze him that he sought comfort from others due to the people who operated under the false pretense of a “family”. They were no family. Family doesn’t _lie_ to each other, prioritizing their own gain before others. Family didn’t _guilt_ each other, not into doing things that were uncomfortable, immoral, or perhaps even illegal. No, Lukas and Lila were the closest thing to _family_ he ever had, and Jovie couldn’t fool him into believing otherwise. He wouldn’t allow her or the rest of the Reapers to gaslight him into believing he was indebted to them. He _wasn’t._

After tucking the drawing into the drawer to his right, Kieran allowed his head to fall to his hands, wiping away the beads of cold sweat that layered it. Bending over the desk, he opened a side window to allow the cold air into the wide apartment, allowing the chill to calm his nerves and soothe his heart to convince it to stop drumming against his ribcage. In the light clothing he used as sleepwear, the biting autumn breeze billowed around him, lifting strands of his hair into its midst as he sighed.

When he finally resolved to try and get some rest, he didn’t bother closing the window again. The covers would keep him adequately warm. Turning under the soft blankets, he glanced back at the photograph on his desk, which captured a fleeting moment where Kieran smiled next to the newlywed Lila and Lukas. Lukas’ face was frozen in a tiny smile as his hands gripped his wife’s waist and his best friend’s shoulder, reminding Kieran it was now _his_ duty to protect his childhood friend. It was _his_ turn to sling a comforting arm across Lukas’ shoulder, shielding him from harm.

For once, he had been given the opportunity to defend a person he _knew_ was innocent. There was no doubt about it, he hadn’t needed to suppress his morals to adequately defend his client by not asking whether or not they “actually did it.” If he managed to save a _single_ person, to save Lukas, the person who had never left his side, from a gruesome fate, it would all be worth it, regardless of the years of pain and sacrifices he has endured.

With these hazed thoughts, he fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Kieran couldn’t recall how long he slept. It must have only been a few hours, as it was still dark when he opened his eyes. Despite being reluctant to leave the comforting warmth of his blankets, he forced himself out of bed and started getting ready.

Walking into the bathroom, he blinked at the man who stared back at him. His hair graced his shoulders gently, slightly wavy due to drying as he slept. There were deep dark circles under his eyes that he could only hope would disappear as the day progressed. If they didn’t, he’d have to borrow Lila’s concealer again. Tugging a grey silk ribbon out of the box on the corner of the sink, he threw his hair up messily, smoothing the lumps halfheartedly with his fingers. Nobody would be fazed by his hairstyle at this point, and his hair fell into a ponytail naturally after years of being tied up. 

He walked back out to his kitchen to put a spoonful of loose-leaf tea into the ceramic teapot he kept on the kitchen island before heading back into his room to change. Thanks to Lila, he didn’t have trouble finding the black tie he usually wore with his slate grey suit. Feeling the breeze through the window he had opened the night before, he pulled a heavier coat out of his closet and tugged his striped cashmere scarf out of the drawer. 

He slung his coat and scarf over the back of the chair as he sat down to eat, picking on his food for minutes before the knots on his stomach allowed him to take a bite. As expected, he could only properly enjoy his tea. The sun had already begun to peep between the buildings and bathe the apartment in a soft yellow light that comforted him, tainting every surface it touched with a lovely hue of gold that reminded him of buttercream.

Absentmindedly, he ate the food on his plate as he once again took his notes to revise his opening statement for the umpteenth time. The reassuring ticking of the grandfather clock and his muttered practicing were the only sounds that filled the apartment. After the skill displayed by the prosecutor, he had invested his energy on making every word he would utter at their next battle as effective and precise as possible. He very rarely felt competitive with his opposing counsel; after all, most in the field tended to remain civil with each other. However, he could tell that the scarlet-haired woman wasn’t a force to be underestimated, and he knew by the glow in her eyes that her refusal to back down at the preliminary hearing that it was a mere taste of her prowess. She was good, he’d grant her that, but there was simply too much at stake for him in this case and he wouldn’t allow Lauren Sinclair to shatter everything he had worked so painfully to build.

There was too much on the line this time. Not only would he lose his best friend, but he’d also lose all the progress he’d had over the years. The defense of every dubious client, every bitten back retort, every hyacinth bouquet, and every unspilled tear would have been for naught. He’d be back at square one, and Jovie wouldn’t tolerate any failure.

_You think you’re all high and mighty just because you don’t wield the sword?_

He was better than that. He had worked hard to be.

_But you let the murderers free, right?_

No, he had made a deal. It was a simple matter of survival instinct.

_Wouldn’t that make you responsible for their acts, Kieran?_

It didn’t, it didn’t, it didn’t…

_You’re still a murderer, flower boy. You’re as much of a monster as I am._

“ _I am_ not _a murderer!_ ” he flung his arm out to the image of Belladonna whispering in his ear, not realizing he held the papers with it and thus causing a rain of ivory pages to fall upon his apartment floor.

Staring as the papers fluttered to the hardwood floor like the autumn leaves outside, Kieran gasped for breath, loosening the tie from his neck as he tucked his face into his hands. The Viper always had this effect on people. It was all a game for her, but anything she said would haunt you incessantly, words dripping with venom almost deadlier than the kind on her blade. She aimed to wrap her pretty little fingers around your mind like a boa constrictor, squeezing until there was nothing left.

He was not about to grant her that luxury.

Kieran was a distinguished attorney. Distinguished attorneys picked up their papers, put them back inside the briefcase, tightened their tie, put on their coat and scarf, and left for a new day of work. Distinguished attorneys did not wallow in petty words of their enemies. At least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

Glancing one last time at his image in the mirror, Kieran sighed at the disks under his eyes.

He really would have to get more sleep.

* * *

Climbing up these steps on high heels, tight dresses, or heavy coats had become second nature for Lauren. She knew the courthouses of Ardhalis like the back of her hand, and she was particularly familiar with those in the Eleventh precinct, so much one could call them a collective third home, right after the Sinclair Manor and her work office. She escaped the wind tousling her hair in a matter of minutes with a coffee cup in hand (with a lid this time, she’d learned her lesson) and purse hanging from the opposite arm. Making sure that there was still more than half an hour before the first official hearing, she strode past the crowd and made her way easily to her assigned courtroom. Kym, Will, and March were nowhere to be seen, but she assumed that they’d arrive sooner or later and headed towards the seats outside the courtroom as she revised her opening statement.

She was just about to turn the corner when she overheard familiar voices and halted in her tracks, stopping on instinct after the embarrassing encounter of two weeks ago. 

“I’m _fine_ , Lila, don’t worry so much.”

“You don’t _look_ fine, Kieran, did you even sleep last night?”

“Thank you for assuring me that my good looks have withered away, Lila, it’s very nice of you.”

“ _Kieran-_ ”

“I slept,” his voice is dubitative. “I didn’t sleep a lot, but I did sleep.”

Lauren was about to use the beat of silence that followed to keep walking, but Lila Desroses spoke again, voice kind and worried, like a mother whose child had caught the flu.

“I know this is hard for you, and that you’re scared of failing us,” Lauren frowned at these words. _Scared?_ “Lukas loves you deeply and so do I, even if he’s not one to express it verbally. Don’t burden yourself, Kieran. You’re the best attorney we know, and I’m not saying that just because you’re my boss.”

Kieran White laughs, barely, but he does, and it’s genuine and clear. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, sweetpea. I promised to get Lukas out of this one and I’m doing it. He will not pay for a crime he did not commit.”

She heard footsteps walking away. While Lauren couldn’t help but think he was either underestimating her or being overly confident, the passionate and determined tone of his voice indicated that he truly believed he could save his friend. She had been right; there was something deeper than a boss helping out his secretary’s family. The couple cared deeply about Kieran’s health, and he apparently cared about Lukas’ freedom enough to lose sleep over it. It was definitely an intriguing discovery, as not many defense attorneys allowed themselves to get so emotionally invested in a case.

_Was the guilt finally getting to him? Years of letting loose criminals finally coming back to bite him._

Suddenly remembering that she was eavesdropping on a private conversation, Lauren resumed her trek to the seats that the duo was also headed to. Lukas was nowhere to be seen. After hearing Lila’s concerns, she had been expecting to see a miserable baggy-eyed man with dark circles twinning those she hid under her own eyes with makeup. Instead, Kieran looked rather awake, appearing completely normal to the untrained eye. Unfortunately for him, his opponent was quite observant and noticed the lack of his usual self-confident smirk and sparkle in his bright blue eyes. He stood next to the chair Lila occupied, sipping from a disposable cup of what she assumed to be tea.

Lila sighed, glanced at her wristwatch, and stood up, muttering briefly at Kieran before walking away to, presumably, find her husband.

Lauren wasn’t quite sure what led her to do it, but she had always been one to follow her gut despite the many possible consequences that accompanied these spontaneous decisions. Thus, she found her feet guiding her to Kieran as she gulped down most of the coffee in her cup, just in case anything happened. She reached Mr. White within a few strides, causing him to glance up at her, but whereas their previous encounters involved large doses of charm and mock flirtation, his eyes were only occupied with blank disinterested and mild exasperation.

“Good morning, Ms. Sinclair,” he greeted politely.

“Good morning, Mr. White,” Lauren replied in equal politeness, somehow thrown off balance by the lack of his usual smirk and confidence. “You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Sinclair, ” he smiled. Somehow, it looked so forced and uncomfortable that she wasn’t sure ripping pieces of photos and pasting them onto his face would look worse. “ I feel perfect.”

“Don’t try to lie to me, Mr. White,” Lauren arched an eyebrow. “No one can fool me like this, I’m afraid.”

“Look,” Kieran sighed, rubbing his forehead and kneading his eyes. “Ms. Sinclair, I know you _adore_ my company, and usually I’d be all too willing to play along to this game of ours,” he tilted his head back, downing almost all his tea. Jasmine, if her nose didn’t mislead her. He continued: “But I didn’t have a good night, and I’m having an even worse morning, so if you’d excuse me, _madame_ , I’d rather leave the discussion to the courtroom.”

Without another word and giving her no time to reply, Kieran slipped past her and headed straight to the direction where Lila had previously disappeared to. Lauren could only stare after him, completely confused. She had only encountered the man a handful of times after the preliminary hearing for a few occasions involving the trial. The most remarkable ones, where they had both fought to select jurors, had them both gently pink with passion at the challenge.

However, he hadn’t ever been so fast to brush her off, and instead of satisfying her as a sign of his surrender, it simply frustrated her even more. She couldn’t _stand_ that he was pushing past the image she had built of him, the one so carefully crafted to be devoid of emotion to fit the image of the mockingly apologetic attorney.

_Only half-right, Ren! Purple hyacinths are the symbol of the Royal crest, yes, but did you know they’re also apology flowers? They mean “I’m sorry, please forgive me.”_

Lauren Sinclair was never one to doubt herself. It frustrated her that someone like him —someone who defended criminals, thus was just as guilty of their crimes as them— would make her start doing so. She _refused_ to be bested by such a loathsome man.

* * *

Adila remained as nice and warm as always, and when both parties took their places in court, she rewarded them with smiles as she called the jury in. Kieran took the time to reanalyze every juror they had selected as they received their instructions.

The eight individuals sat in a row, all listening attentively to Judge Themins. However, while some were simply nodding along, there were a few jurors that scribbled incessantly on the notepads they were given. He started on the side closest to Judge Themins, eyes resting on a woman with her hair in a bun and round glasses. She was a restauranteur from what he remembered, and she had been exceptionally polite and formal when they selected the jury, so he wasn’t surprised to see her jotting down notes while still looking at Adila.

Beside her sat a man primly dressed in a simple suit, constantly adjusting his watch. He had been remarkably conservative during jury selection and seemed to be a man with straightforward views. His occupation as an elementary school math teacher must have contributed to his seemingly dualistic view on life. There were only two sides to any problem: the truths and the lies. He supposed that this was why his opponent had wanted to include this man on the jury. He took few notes, choosing instead to nod along and attempt to digest the complex legal jargon that Judge Themins was obligated to explain.

In a shocking contrast, the university student next to him scribbled hurriedly on her notepad as if she were preparing to take an exam on the jury instructions themselves. Kieran wouldn’t be surprised if she ripped a sheet or two of paper with how hard she was pressing down her pen in flurried motions. Chuckling gently to himself, he was reminded of his days in law school where he, too, would scribble in a similar fashion. He could only hope that her notes are neater than his were, as she might actually need to use them in the near future.

Shifting his attention over to the other end of the jury box, he noticed the old university professor who stared down at his notepad, capping and uncapping his pen slowly as he nodded along to the instructions. From what he recalled, the man taught philosophy courses, and he anticipated that he’d be one of the jurors who would have the most trouble struggling with the seemingly conflicting moral issues in the trial. However, he assumed that the man would also be most likely to carefully consider both sides presented rather than jumping to conclusions. 

Lastly, he noted the barista on the jury jiggling her leg slightly as she stared blankly at Adila. The bags under her eyes and slow blinking betrayed exhaustion, which surprised him. He’d expected that her profession would have her filled to the brim with caffeine. Nevertheless, her squinted eyes and pursed lips directed to Adila proved that she was actually listening to what the Judge was saying, glancing down at the notepad every now and then. She didn’t seem very attracted to the idea of taking notes. 

As for the other three, they had chosen a variety of people with different backgrounds: an old farmer Kieran trusted to stick to the facts only, a small artist Lauren had chosen from the jury pool, and a woman owner of a print shop in the 3rd both of them had agreed on. They were a handful of people, people of different ages, social status, and ethnicities that carried Lukas’ fate in their hands.

Once finished with her extensive instructions, Judge Themins turned to the audience, glared subtly to the reporters in the back (she had never been fond of media exposure, Kieran remembered), and turned to them.

“Are both parties ready?” Judge Themins asked, glancing at Lauren and Kieran.

“Ready for the people, your Honor,” Lauren replied. Gone was the apologetic woman who had spilled her coffee over him on their first meeting, and in her spot stood a confident, capable woman without a shred of doubt in her aureate eyes.

It was intriguing, to say the least.

“Ready for the defense, your Honor.”

“Will the clerk please swear in the jury?”

There was shuffling as the jury stood, and as the clerk uttered the vow for them Kieran glanced at Lauren. She was arranging the grey sleeves of her dress around her wrists, lips moving imperceptibly as she practiced one last time her opening statement, Kieran guessed. She closed her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ears and gripping her wristwatch right as the professor was sworn in before nodding at Judge Themins in acknowledgment of her cue to start. Lauren stood, and everything about her was regal. Her perfectly balanced stance, even taller than it normally was due to her stilettos, was lengthened by her perfectly straight shoulders as she pushed her chair back to address the audience on her feet. Her eyes glowed, examining the jury before offering them a polite nod that elicited tentative smiles from a few jurors.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Lauren Sinclair, and I am honored to serve as the prosecutor on this incredibly important case.”

If he was forced to, perhaps Kieran would compare her to a hawk, or an eagle. Lauren Sinclair was all smooth movements and poised gestures, leaning forward onto the desk towards the jury, her performance impeccable in every aspect. She made eye contact with every juror, voice never breaking, wording spotless down to every possible aspect. He had heard about her before: his fellow defense attorneys seemed to be particularly concerned when facing the Sinclair Heiress, and her reputation would make any attorney shiver.

“On October 26th, Lukas Randall was accused of murdering Captain Hugues Hermann, the captain of the 11th District APD police force,” She had rocked backward onto her heels, allowing her to gesture with her arms. “This is a case about the loss of a protector of society at the hands of a brutal murderer.”

He grimaced slightly at her pointed statements of Lukas’ guilt. Lukas tensed, hands clasped tighter on top of the table, and behind them, Kieran knew Lila shrunk on her seat, lips pressed together in the utmost distress.

If he had to be honest, though, it excited him a bit. Ms. Sinclair proved to be a formidable opponent, however unfortunate it was that they had to meet on _this_ particular case.

Beyond and the infamous Prosecutor Sinclair, facing each other at last.

It would definitely be quite the show.

* * *

Lauren returned to her seat, certain that she had succeeded in priming the jury against whatever emotional appeal or manipulation Kieran White was trying to use. However, the second he stood up from his seat, readjusting his hair, she faltered slightly. He seemed to be able to cause that easily. After what Kym and Will told her yesterday, she really was starting to believe that Kieran somehow bribed the baker to give his testimony.   
  
_What attorney doesn’t even send his_ secretary _to a witness? He sends a_ completely _random guy? I guess she’s his client’s wife, but still-_

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Thank you, counsel, for your invigorating opening statement.”

She glanced at him through her bangs, refusing to entertain his apparent formality. 

“My name is Kieran White, and I am here to defend my client, Officer Lukas Randall.” 

Rather than leaning forwards to shorten the distance between the jury and himself, he instead chose to remain standing completely upright, swaying gently as he locked eyes with each juror. He was made of sharp angles and vigorous gesturing, hands aiding words in getting through everyone’s skull.

“However, contrary to what Ms. Sinclair has presented, this is in fact a case where my client, Officer Randall, was wrongly accused of murdering his own Captain. This is an incredibly serious accusation, and I implore each one of you to consider all evidence thoroughly.”

Lauren looked up from her notes in shock. 

_No, it couldn’t be_.

_He must be telling half-truths, there’s no way-_

There was no buzzing that vibrated through her ears, and she could only sit, dumbfounded, as he continued on.

“By the end of this case, I will demonstrate to you that my client is not guilty of the heinous crimes he has been accused of. The prosecution will fail to meet their burden of proof-”

Lauren listened attentively to Kieran, but still, still, there was no change in his pitch of voice, no bees ringing in her ears like so often they were. Maybe her gift (her curse, she’d argue) was beginning to fail her. There was no way that Kieran White, of all people, was telling the truth.

Despite her frustration, a tiny smirk curled on her lips.

_He’s more interesting than I thought he would be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, Waters here!!
> 
> Kieran's being harassed by our daughter, he's not having such a great time. Jovie will literally call any time she wants, try to convince him, hang up, then leave him in the most _bitter_ of moods. At least you have a hint as to what's going on now, though. Kieran's involvement with the Reapers isn't as simple as it looks.
> 
> We thought it'd be super intriguing to have Lauren now be _upset_ that Kieran was ignoring her. I swear, this woman just wants a fight whenever she can get it. Kieran's statements of Lukas' innocence can either come from the fact that he TRULY is innocent...or perhaps...Kieran already knows his way around her ability. Who knows? :))
> 
> Starting from here, most of the chapters will be mostly hearings. Though they might not have _as_ much physical action, we hope you guys enjoy these (I nearly died putting them together...knowing what happens doesn't make it any easier to create direct/cross-examination points). Pay attention to the small details, because who knows, you might figure out the case before these two idiots do :))
> 
> Leave a comment if you'd like and we'll definitely get back to you! Thank you so much for reading.


	10. Amusing Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Yes, of course. What can I do for you, Ms. Sinclair? I’m afraid I must-”
>> 
>> Lauren interrupted his apology with muttered words far too fast to be heard clearly.
>> 
>> “Pardon?”
>> 
>> “I said I’m sorry. For your shirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a clickable link to the soundtrack for a scene of this chapter embedded in the work! Once you see it, just let it play! We recommend that you check it out to get the best experience. Adjust volume to preference :D

W illiam Hawkes had a solid testimony, Kieran had to grant him that.

It seemed the man had decided to prepare himself better than he did for the preliminary hearing, for this time he spoke with a lot more confidence when stating that he was, indeed, sitting there on his behalf and Sergeant Kym Ladell’s. It was decided that the Lieutenant’s testimony would be enough, seeing as he was Sergeant Ladell’s superior. The court had no time to waste with witnesses who had seen the exact same things at the exact same time, something clearly evidenced in their depositions. And so, the Lieutenant was the one called to the witness box while the Sergeant waited sitting behind Lauren.

“But did you, Lieutenant Hawkes, see in the room any indications that _clearly_ indicated that Officer Randall was involved in Captain Hermann’s death?”

William only hesitated for a heartbeat before replying. “I did not, sir.”

“Nor further questions, your Honor,” Kieran smiled at William and moved back to his seat. From the other end of the room, Lauren exhaled through her nostrils as William was excused, and sent him a comforting smile that would’ve gone unnoticed if Kieran weren’t looking at them. William took his seat back, next to Kym, and the police officers whispered to each other something he couldn’t decipher as they stared straight ahead.

Oliver March took the stand, straightening his blazer as he smiled easily at the jury. Unlike William, he had already testified at multiple trials and was very used to having to explain the state of the crime scene and the administrative procedures that followed the arrest.

Lauren began her questions. 

“Good morning, Detective March. Could you please tell us what your job usually entails?”

March nodded. “Well, as you mentioned already, I am the lead detective for the 11th District APD,” He paused briefly before she gestured at him to continue with her palm.

“Generally, I interview suspects and witnesses, but I also respond to crime scenes.”

“Very good. Could you please tell us how you are involved in this case, Detective?”

“Well, I was one of the first officers to respond to the scene, after the Lieutenant and Sergeant. I interviewed Officer Randall, as Mr. White here can confirm,” he glanced over at Kieran, who nodded slightly.

“I also was in regular contact with Examiner Riverhood, who was in charge of this case. Although I passed off the crime scene to Detective Cooper after a brief period to interview Officer Randall since he was available after interviewing both Sergeant Ladell and Lieutenant Hawkes, I was the one who signed off the crime scene report. Lastly, as you know, Ms. Sinclair, I reported regularly to you about the development of the case.”

Lauren nodded, flipping over a page in her notepad.

“Could you please explain to the jury what you found at the crime scene please?”

The detective proceeded to adjust his sitting position to face more towards the jury box, hoping it would make it easier for them to understand what he found that day in Hermann’s office.

“Well, I suppose it’s important to explain what we generally look for at a crime scene, particularly a scene where foul play is suspected.” He cleared his throat, signaling to the jury that they perhaps should pay extra attention to his words and take notes. The university student had apparently calmed down significantly since the morning and had slowed her writing down to a reasonable amount but huffed visibly at the thought of her upcoming hand cramps at March’s cues.

“To begin, we check whether there’s any evidence of the body being moved. We try and determine whether or not this was the primary crime scene or simply a dumping spot. Since it was Captain Hermann’s office, and there didn’t appear to be anything unusual such as signs of a body being dragged or an unusually clean scene, we determined that his body was most likely unmoved.

“Many of you probably are aware that the APD will seal off crime scenes to preserve evidence and avoid contamination by outside factors. Other than that, we also check for whether or not there appears to be something missing from a crime scene or if anything’s been moved or tampered with. It didn’t appear that any of the evidence from Captain Hermann’s office and he wasn’t missing his wallet or other personal items of value either.”

He paused briefly for the jury to catch up with him, letting the sound of pens scratching against paper fill the courtroom for a short period before continuing onwards.

“At the time of discovery, we determined that the captain had been poisoned, though we were not certain what poison that was. He had already passed away upon discovery, and we found him with his eyes bulged out and trails of semi-dried vomit dripping down his face.”

The elementary math teacher grimaced at the detective’s graphic descriptions of the captain’s death. Kieran couldn’t help but hide a snicker behind his hand as he jotted down notes, taking the time to doodle little flowers as bullet points. He had already read everything, and this was old news to him. Ms. Sinclair most definitely was losing the man, who appeared to be incredibly disgusted by the discussion of gore.

“Lastly, the things that we assess in the primary crime scene investigation before evidence is analyzed is whether there’s enough to suggest what might have happened at the scene. This may sound simple, but it’s actually much more complex than what it appears to be.”

March sat even straighter in his seat, pride evident in his voice. Lauren hoped that his confidence in the information he was giving would help the jury better understand what happened.

“While we were pretty confident that there was foul play, we weren’t sure what exactly happened. There didn’t appear to be any forced entry, but the window was found open. The captain appeared to die of asphyxiation and poisoning, but we couldn’t determine how he would allow anyone to get close enough to him to harm him. Lastly, although Officer Randall was found unconscious at the crime scene with a vial in his hand, there certainly wasn’t enough to draw any definitive conclusions about his relation to the events that occurred in that office.”

At this, a few jurors stopped writing, staring curiously at the man sitting in front of him. Lauren registered their apparent confusion and chose to continue her questions.

“Thank you, Detective. That was very helpful. You noted that Officer Randall was found holding a vial in his hand in the same office where what appeared to be a murder occurred. Yet, you stated that no conclusive statements could be made about his involvement. Could you please elaborate on how that is possible?” Lauren smiled gently at him. “It seems rather paradoxical.”

“Well, while one might follow an instinct to jump to conclusions when they see a man holding a vial under the desk of a victim that appeared to be poisoned, we cannot be sure that he was actually responsible for the captain’s death. After all, he _was_ found unconscious and being a police officer himself, it seems quite bizarre that he would chose to be found in such a compromising position if he _had_ committed the murder.”

Lauren nodded at him, glancing over to the jury box. Those who previously appeared baffled appeared to understand, bobbing their heads slightly as they scribbled onto sheets of lined parchment.

“Thank you, Detective.” Turning to Adila, she bowed slightly. “No further questions from me, your Honor.”

Kieran stood up next, brushing off his jacket and adjusting his hair before starting.

“Good morning, Detective. Thank you for that explanation. There are just a few things I’d like to clear up before we move on.”

Oliver March turned to study Kieran curiously. Although the man _was_ perpetually confident, as demonstrated in their encounter at the APD, he seemed to be completely at ease in the courtroom. There was no sign of mockery in his faint smile, eyes glinting as he analyzed the reactions of each juror, tailoring his questions as he went.

“You mentioned that there didn’t appear to be any evidence missing, correct?”

“Yes,” agreed March, unsure as to where he left out information.

“And you also noted that Sergeant Ladell and Lieutenant Hawkes were the first to respond to the scene, correct?”

The detective nodded apprehensively, thrown slightly off course. Of all the cases he had testified for, none of the defense attorneys made him feel such an unease as Kieran White did. It wasn’t that he was rude or particularly menacing; no, the well-dressed man with a perpetual smile pasted onto his face was far from menacing. However, there was simply something about the way his tone never shifted and remained completely confident, suggesting absolute knowledge, that prevented March from knowing what he’d ask next.

“So, how could you possibly know that no evidence was tampered with? You weren’t the first one at the scene.”

Lauren stared, trying desperately to hold her mask of indifference. She could hear Kym and Will shifting uneasily behind her, likely due to his apparent questioning of their professionality.

_Where is he trying to go with this, is he just trying to confuse the jury?_

“Well,” March replied slowly, “I’m quite certain of the Lieutenant and Sergeant’s professionality, and I don’t believe-”

“Oh, no Detective, I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me. I am _not_ questioning their adherence to professional guidelines,” Kieran explained easily, “I am simply wondering: how do you know that there wasn’t any evidence lost before _anyone_ responded to the scene?”

He now directed his attention to the jury, looking directly at them as he continued.

“After all, was the crime scene not found in disarray? I recall that papers were strewn across the room as if they had been pushed off haphazardly.”

March mentally kicked himself. He had forgotten to mention the state of disarray of the Captain’s office, as Hermann wasn’t the most orderly man anyway. Nonetheless, he had to answer the cross-examination questions, so he inhaled deeply before he responded.

“Well, when I said that no evidence appeared to be altered or removed, I meant that there wasn’t a conspicuous lack of something. We couldn’t possibly check every last file on Captain Hermann’s desk in one morning, as the crime scene report is generally based on initial impressions based on naked-eye observations. We leave the deep analysis in charge of the forensics unit. And even if we _could_ somehow examine every file, there’s no way of knowing which files he had out that night. Additionally, the captain wasn’t the most orderly man, so other than the desk, nothing appeared to be out of place.”

Kieran nodded, acknowledging his explanation. Most of the jurors had flipped over to the fourth page of notes now, and he could see the university professor starring and circling things on his sheet as if he were grading a paper.

“Thank you, Detective. However, I repeat my question: is there any way you can be _certain_ that no evidence was moved or destroyed?”

March fidgeted with his thumbs briefly before giving in. “No, there’s no way to be certain that something that _we don’t know of_ isn’t there. That’s like expecting someone to know what they don’t know.”

“Thank you. No more questions, your Honor.”

A tense beat of silence passed where the only thing one could hear was the sound of papers rustling. Adila then looked up at Lauren.

“Any re-cross? If not, we are adjourned for the day.”

“No, your Honor.” 

Adila stood up, nodding at everyone as they stood up and bowed. 

Lauren glanced over at Kieran, who was quietly packing up his documents. It was lunchtime, but he didn’t appear to be in any rush to get out of the courtroom after he had bade Lukas and Lila goodbye. Despite his status as opposing counsel, he had been surprisingly civil and polite throughout the case so far, much more so than some of the other defense attorneys she had encountered. Additionally, she owed him a shirt, which she was quite certain was ruined. Swallowing her pride, she walked over to him, intending to banish her embarrassment from her mind once and for all. She had an idea, a great idea. Once again, it’d involve listening to her gut more than to her brain, but if she played her cards right, she could win so much from the situation.

“Mr. White, I was wondering if you had a moment?”

Kieran turned towards her, staring at her in ill-concealed surprise. He hadn’t expected her to _acknowledge_ him after the trial began, much less _initiate a conversation_. While he didn’t expect her to be one of the freshly-hired, overzealous prosecutors who took every cross-examination question as a personal attack, he also didn’t expect that she would dissociate from her courtroom persona so easily, especially when she appeared hell-bent on Lukas’ guilt.

And he had also been a little harsh on her, earlier that morning. She could have easily avoided him for his behavior, but she still approached him.

“Yes, of course. What can I do for you, Ms. Sinclair? I’m afraid I must-”

Lauren interrupted his apology with muttered words far too fast to be heard clearly.

“Pardon?”

“I said I’m sorry. For your shirt.”

Kieran smiled at her casually, eyes twinkling. “Oh, that’s no problem. As you can see, I’ve been able to find clean shirts to wear,” he said as he opened one side of his blazer so she could see his pristinely white shirt.

“I still feel quite embarrassed and guilty about spilling scorching hot coffee on you. I was going to get you a replacement, but I wouldn’t know where to start,” she drifted off, staring off to her right side before snapping back quickly, staring right into his eyes. “So I was wondering if it would be possible for me to treat you to lunch? Purely as coworkers, not opposing counsel on this case. I promise to not ask you any questions about-”

“Oh, are you asking me on a date, Ms. Sinclair?” he joked, eyebrows raised.

Lauren was about to spin back around, guilt flying off the window, before he grinned at her, briefcase and coat in hand. “Of course, Ms. Sinclair. I was planning on eating alone, but it’s always nice to have company.” Noticing the ways her eyes still blazed, he laughed slightly, staring down at his shoes. He seemed genuinely amused. “And yes, I promise this isn’t a date and I won’t take it that way.”

Lauren breathed a sigh of relief, tucking herself back into her coat in anticipation of the windy weather outside. Thank goodness she usually tied her hair up for days she started with hearings; otherwise, she’d likely walk into courtrooms with a scarlet octopus riding her head.

“Excellent. How does the coffee shop down the street work for you? I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes?”

“Sure, that would be fantastic. Lila loves their pastries and always gets one when we come to court hearings here.”

His apparent adoration of his secretary brought a smile to Lauren’s face. The three of them did, indeed, appear to be very close with one another. Another thing for her to find out, she guessed. Waving over her shoulder, Lauren briskly walked away from him and out of the courtroom, making her way to the cafe before all the seats were occupied during the lunch rush.

* * *

To her surprise, Kieran arrived not on time, but _early_ . [She had just sat down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHDXMXz_8sk&feature=youtu.be) (thankfully, at an indoor table) when he stepped through the door, the bell signaling his arrival. He scanned the room for her, a small smile lighting upon his face when he found her. He shrugged off his coat and ran his hand through his hair, which she noticed had been taken from its ponytail and redone in a half-up style, the bottom part of his hair barely brushing his shoulders.

As he made his way through the tables, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at how seemingly oblivious he was to the waitresses eyeing him. He sat down in front of her, hanging his coat over the back of his chair before the girl walked over to him and handed him a menu. When he didn’t pay her any attention past thanking her, she awkwardly walked away, mumbling something about calling her over again when they were ready.

“So, Mr. White-”

“Please, you can call me Kieran outside of the courtroom. After all, we’re just _acquaintances_ having lunch right now, are we not?”

It was a game for him, perhaps, guessing from the way he smirked when he uttered those words.

“Acquaintances,” she repeated, matching him with a smile. If he wanted a game, a game he would have. “Alright, _Kieran_ , call me Lauren then. We’re _acquaintances_ , after all,” Kieran chuckled under his breath, eyes drifting up and down the menu. “So, I meant to ask if you have any recommendations,” she smiled sheepishly. “I’ve only ever been here for the coffee.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t had much other than their pastries Lila insists on shoving down my throat, but I suppose that their pasta is quite tasty. I’ve smelled Lila eating it at her desk during lunchtime occasionally.”

With this in mind, she settled for the clam and pesto pasta, and a few moments later he decided he’d have carbonara. He waved at the waitress to come over, and while the girl approached he smiled at Lauren, teasing.

“I’ll get the drinks. I assume you’ll have a latte?”

Lauren choked back a chuckle. “I’d rather not. If I spill it again I think I’ll die of embarrassment for real.”

Kieran chuckled. “I see. Iced tea, then?”

“Fine with me.”

Turning to the waitress, who was waiting attentively, he placed their order.

“This lovely lady will have an iced tea with less sugar and ice, and I’ll have one of your tea lattes. They’re English Breakfast, correct?”

The young woman nodded as she scribbled on her notepad then scurried off to the kitchen.

Lauren raised an eyebrow at him. “How did you know I take my iced tea with less sugar and ice? I know we’ve seen each other quite a few times, but I don’t recall ever drinking any in front of you.”

He grinned at her, passing her a set of cutlery from the basket in the table before meticulously organizing his own.

“Well, Lauren,” he began. “I had the _pleasure_ of smelling your coffee. For someone who drinks such scorching, bitter coffee, I didn’t think you’d like much sugar or ice in your tea, especially on a chilly day like this. Simple observation.”

Lauren flushed in embarrassment before Kieran changed the subject, his grin dropping and replaced by a serious expression.

“I suppose I should apologize for my behavior this morning. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said earnestly. “I didn’t get a chance to do that earlier,” he paused, laying the cream-colored napkin over his lap, “I had a rough night and didn’t get much sleep, but that was no reason for me to take it out on you.”

“It’s alright,” murmured Lauren. She was quite surprised that he insisted on apologizing. Based on her impressions of him, she’d have thought that after being cut off earlier today when she asked him to eat with her, he wouldn’t try again. “I assumed you weren’t sleeping well, since I overheard Lila nagging you. I recognize the dark circles under your eyes; you can see that a matching pair hang under mine.”

“And here I was, thinking I did a good job with Lila’s concealer,” he joked as the waitress returned with their drinks.

“They could probably go undetected from inexperienced eyes,” Lauren said, sipping from her tea, “but I’ve spent enough hours standing in front of a mirror analyzing my work to spot the small mistakes.”

She watched him sniff his tea latte, tilting his head to the side before taking a tentative sip. He looked down at his mug, seemingly satisfied with the taste. 

“I didn’t know you were such a tea connoisseur, Kieran,” she gestured at his hands, which were wrapped around the steaming beverage for warmth.

He let out an easy chuckle before taking another sip. “Well, I used to drink coffee as well, which may come as a shock to you.

“I never quite liked the taste, since it was too bitter for me, but I had to get enough caffeine to sustain me through law school.” When he set the mug back down, a good third of the drink was already gone. “I started drinking tea after my local cafe hosted an event where you got an extra pastry if you bought one of their new teas. Being a little broke as a student, I tried the tea blend they were selling. It was _absolutely_ horrible and I hated it. I still drank mostly coffee, but I’d buy tea in the mornings just so I could get breakfast as well.

“So, when Lila came around, she noticed how anxious coffee would make me. She’d come in to hand me documents to sign, and my hands would just be shaking.” He smiled at the memory. “I suppose shaky signatures don’t come off as the most professional.

“She was the one who introduced me to _real_ tea, though I suppose she now regrets it. I literally beg her to order me new teas almost every week. Though I must say, she somehow never lets my favorite type of earl grey run out in the office pantry.

“I was hesitant at first since that cafe’s blend was _truly_ the worst I’ve ever had,” he paused, gesturing to his mug, “but as you can see, I’ve never gone back.”

Lauren nodded. She was slightly baffled at how he couldn’t afford breakfast and would force himself to drink tea he despised when he managed to get into one of Ardhalis’ most prestigious law schools. She was dying to ask him, but not wanting to expose the fact that she’d spent a whole day digging up his past, she just sipped on her drink. 

“I’m afraid I can’t share your sentiment for tea. I’ll tolerate it, but I suppose I’ve just never really had a _good_ one.” She stared at the man across her, who currently looked much calmer than he did this morning. “My uncle drinks coffee as well; he’s the one who got me addicted.”

“Maybe one day I’ll introduce you to my favorite blends,” Kieran winked. “I’m sure I can find something you’d like.”

“Undoubtedly,” Lauren scoffed, shaking her head to him.

The waitress came back to them balancing their food on a tray, placing Kieran’s carbonara first. He flashed the girl, probably no older than twenty, a polite smile that sent a discreet blush to her cheeks, and Lauren had to bite back a laugh at the look of disappointment on the poor girl’s face as she placed Lauren’s food in front of her. The poor thing probably believed them to be a couple. It was hilarious to think her disappointment came from this erroneous conclusion when Kieran was clearly several years older and most likely not interested.

When the waitress left, Lauren grinned at Kieran. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“I don’t think any woman inside this cafe does,” Kieran chuckled, making a subtle wave with his left hand towards one of the tables occupied by a group of young men throwing her not-so-subtle glances. “Just like about every single man despises me at this very moment.”

Lauren tried to bite back the laugh climbing up her throat, shoving a spoonful of pasta into her mouth. Kieran looked ready to burst into laughter as well.

“Unfortunate souls, I guess.”

“It’s not our problem to fix,” Lauren chuckled. “Our professions already give us enough of those.”

“So, tell me, Lauren, what made you want to pursue this career?”

Lauren hummed, tilting her head as she considered her answer. She didn’t want to reveal more than necessary. If she were to tell him the deeper reason that made her choose law as a career instead of medicine, or police work as her younger self had once dreamed, she was sure to reveal why she was so invested in this particular case. Oversharing such personal matters was not on her wishlist of the day.

She chose the half-truth of her answer. “My family has a vast history in the side of law. My father was an attorney himself, and as you must be already aware, my uncle is the District Attorney. The Sinclairs have succeeded for generations in the legal ground, and I had many figures of authority to look up to growing up.”

“Is that all?” Kieran asked, intrigued.

Lauren shrugged. “That and an unyielding sense of justice, I guess. I wanted to be a police officer when I was younger.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Kieran laughed softly.

“Childhood dreams, they’re like that,” Lauren sighed. “It takes one little thing to shatter them.”

Kieran arched an eyebrow at her, eyeing her suspiciously. Lauren shook her head, deciding to turn the conversation around.

“What about you? What made you pursue this path?”

Kieran took a moment to swallow his food as he considered the question himself. She had noticed, all along their lunch, he followed the table etiquette she had been taught as a child like it was second nature. He used the cutlery with practiced ease, portions small to be quickly swallowed in case he needed to talk, shoulders straight, and elbows never touching the tablecloth. He kept giving her mixed signals. Her uncle had told her he was an orphan, grew up in an orphanage, and he apparently couldn’t afford his meals during college. Yet, he had impeccable social manners and attended one of Ardhalis’ best universities.

_What is it with this man?_

“I guess you could say it was a way of rebelling against what I was handed,” Kieran nodded. The ambiguity of his words piqued her interest even more. “I knew I wanted to serve society one way or another, do some good. I had to sacrifice a lot to get here, but in the end, I think it’ll be worth it.”

“Is it not worth it right now?” Lauren asked.

Kieran gave her a faint smirk. “You mean as in this _very_ instant when I’m having lunch with a lovely woman who also happens to be my rival? I guess you could say it _is_ right now, then.”

Lauren rolled her eyes, causing Kieran to laugh mirthfully.

“Well, anyhow, hopefully someday I’ll be able to achieve what I’ve always wanted to do. You might have guessed that as a defense attorney, you don’t really get to consider the innocence or guilt of your client too much,” he sighed. “Though, I suppose I knew what I was getting into when I pursued this career.”

At this point, Lauren finally gave in to her curiosity. “Kieran, I’ve been wanting to ask you this entire time. I know it’s not really important in the sense of what we’re doing right now, but…” she paused to take a sip of her tea, which she’d surprisingly almost finished. “I… I was wondering if you truly think Lukas Randall is innocent?”

Kieran paused abruptly, setting down his cutlery and dabbing his mouth with the napkin. “I thought we weren’t going to discuss the case, Ms. Sinclair?” 

“Right. You’re right, I’m sorry, I just-” 

She didn’t miss the way he had swapped back to formalities, eyes withdrawing slightly.

He sighed, running his right hand through the back of his hair, sending the faint scent of apples, charcoal, and wood wafting through the air. 

“It’s alright, I suppose, since this isn’t really any client information. Yes, I absolutely believe that Lukas is innocent.” He gave a hesitant smile, tilting his head to the side. “But, I guess you might not believe me anyway. After all, that’s what _all_ defense attorneys have to make themselves believe during a case, isn’t it?”

She nodded in agreement. “Thank you for that. I mean… I’m not sure. As a prosecutor, it’s my job to send the guilty to jail and release the innocent, but-”

“I understand, don’t worry.” His eyes had softened again, and he had almost finished his pasta. 

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? No wonder Lila loves it so much.”

Lauren agreed easily, deciding not to mention the obvious change of topic. She got what she wanted, anyway, and pressing on the subject could backfire. “Absolutely. I normally don’t eat much, so I’m surprised I was actually able to finish mine!” 

The conversation drifted to other topics for what was left of the meal, and all throughout, it was like a head-on challenge from both parties. One of them would throw an argument that the other would counter with their own, falling into passive debates on the topics they disagreed on, refusing to allow the other to get the upper hand.

Lauren glanced down at her wristwatch, gasping. “I didn’t notice that it’s already three in the afternoon. I imagine that you have to get back to the office as well.”

“I have,” he said, checking his own watch, and then he flashed her a grin. “It’s been a pleasure, Lauren,” Kieran said, signaling for the check before Lauren practically slammed his hand back down. 

“I do recall saying I was treating you to lunch today, Kieran,” she chastised, eyes practically glowing against her scarlet hair. “You already bought both of us drinks, so I’d say you fulfilled your _gentlemanly_ duties.”

“My apologies,” he laughed, gesturing at her to go ahead. “I’ll get you again next time, perhaps after this case ends and it’s more appropriate for us to eat together.” 

After both of them had paid, they folded their napkins and placed them to the left side of their plate, much to Lauren’s surprise. Very few people cared enough about table etiquette enough to properly fold their napkins, much less place them on the correct side of their plates, but it appeared to come naturally to Kieran. 

Brushing off her surprise, she walked towards the exit, aware of the numerous sets of eyes that followed them out. They stood by the door as they put their coats back on, which unluckily meant she was close enough to overhear when the guy sitting behind her told his date:

“You know how it is with parents, they’re so worried that I’m almost thirty and not married yet.”

Lauren’s blood boiled as she tugged her hair back up. “Fucking asshole.”

Kieran turned to her, frowning. Quickly realizing what she had said, she shook her head and pointed behind her with her thumb. 

“I meant that guy. He’s cheating on his wife.”

“Really now?” Kieran gave him a subtle glance. “Then I guess you’re right, he really _is_ an asshole.”

Lauren chuckled under her breath and shook her head, before heading outside the cafe, Kieran holding the door open for her. The wind hadn’t let up when they stepped outside. Kieran, ever the charmer, held her hand and bowed as though he were about to kiss her knuckles while he mimed tipping a hat, he grinned up at her, never breaking eye contact. She refused to give in, almost daring him to break his professional image and go through it in public. It was a competition, one where neither competitor was willing to give in. In the end, he was the one to surrender in favor of signaling to a cab to pick her up. It brought a proud grin to Lauren’s face. 

Kieran opened the door of the car. “See you soon, Lauren.”

She hopped inside the cab, closing the door and replying from inside and through the window.

“Until next time, Kieran.”

And when she left him behind, Lauren couldn’t help but remember that when he defended his friend’s innocence, he hadn’t lied. In fact, he did not lie to her even once.

And perhaps that shouldn’t intrigue her so much, but it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Giggle: Lemme try this I wanna code too.
>> 
>> Waters: Yes my child, you're learning.
>> 
>> Giggle: IT WORKS SKANDLSA
> 
> Waters is teaching me the basics of coding :D! I can bold, add italics, and quote so far lmaooo.
> 
> Poor March got _destroyed_ by Kieran XDD We're so sorry March, we like you, we really do, but we put you through so much XDDD Oh, but he is giving us the important stuff about the crime scene, isn't this interesting hmmMMM-
> 
> SAY IT WITH ME: THESE TWO IDIOTS ARE EXPERTS AT INTELLECTUAL FLIRTING. I honestly love it. It was really important for me to make sure Lauren and Kieran were on equal footing. They are equals as Lune in canon, and that is something I do not intend to change, so of course they have to be equals in the courtroom as well in _The Moonlighters_. They are both skilled enough to defeat the other, and they each hold their own set of advantages (although more evident for one than for the other), and they both have an equal amount of years of experience (in case you haven't realized, they graduated in the same year). It also makes it so much more fun.
> 
> ALSO, THEY WENT TO LUNCH! AND THEY APOLOGIZED! Is this what maturity in them looks like? XD Lauren did have another reason to ask him to have lunch with him, we love ulterior motives. She risked it big doing that (defense attorneys cannot share information about their clients, and prosecutors cannot ask about it either) but well, Lauren is prone to doing what her gut tells her instead of what her brain is _hollering_. That much is clear in canon (check: Tim Sake).
> 
> But what makes her go to this extent? Why is she so invested? This already went beyond professional interest...
> 
> Fun fact: Waters and I legit had a conversation about what we thought Kieran smelled like XD. She placed her bet on apples, graphite, and a little musk; I say wood, charcoal, and flowers. So we came to the agreement of apples, charcoal, and wood lmao.
> 
> Quick Update: A little surprise is coming up on Wednesday, so there will be no update that day, deepest apologies. However, we hope that what we will release will make up for it! More news to come with the surprise ;)))
> 
> We hope you enjoyed the chapter! Do tell us what your thoughts are, did you like this? We surely enjoyed writing it (though Waters can't say the same about the next chapter...she has a love-hate relationship with that one). Comments (and Kudos) are always appreciated <3 (BTW, we'd like to thank you guys for the amazing response....so wait till Wednesday :) )


	11. Purposeful Professionalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Additionally, Ms. Riverhood, when individuals use a vial and syringe, would you suppose that they use the syringe with their dominant hand or their non-dominant hand?”
>> 
>> “I…,” she hesitated before responding, “I would assume they would hold the syringe with their dominant hand.” 
>> 
>> “Ms. Riverhood,” he said, smile still plastered onto his face, “were you aware that Mr. Randall is right-handed?

I t was a particularly busy Thursday morning.

People moved in flocks around the halls of the courthouse, quick and pushing each other to get through like children fighting for ice cream, and the place was a mix of the scent of coffee, typewriter ink, and expensive perfume. Kieran, thrown into the crowd, tensed uncomfortably as he tried to avoid dirtying his coat as individuals struggled to make it to the staircase. The second hearing of Lukas’ case would happen in less than an hour, and he didn’t have much time left to prepare. Lila and Lukas were already waiting for him there, somehow always arriving everywhere earlier than him. Perhaps that was because Lukas woke up around five every morning without fail, gently waking up his wife an hour later while Kieran usually refused to leave the comfort of his sheets until the very last moment possible.

Perhaps Lila was right; he truly _was_ a child.

The waiting area was no less crowded, causing Kieran to grimace as several steaming coffee cups threatened to dye his outfit brown, unwilling to experience a repeat of the shirt incident. If only for the laughs, he’d only take a coffee stain from Lauren Sinclair.

Chuckling at the memory, Kieran made his way to the head of strawberry blonde hair bobbing in the masses in front of a slightly taller head of ebony. They appeared to be talking in a hushed tone, Lukas gripping Lila’s hands in his tightly as she shook her head imperceptibly, a tiny smile developing on her face. The worried crease between Lukas’ eyebrows brought a nearly identical one to Kieran’s face as he quickened his steps.

“I’m alright, really.”

“Are you _sure_?”

“Why shouldn’t you be?” The couple jolted to Kieran’s voice, turning to look at him with equal expressions of surprise before Lila smiled again. Kieran would never understand how it was _possible_ for people to look so similar even when they had completely opposite personalities. 

_Must be one of those couple things._

“Kieran! Tell Lukas he’s worried over nothing!”

Kieran frowned. “What is this ‘nothing’ he’s worried about?”

“She’s barely eaten today,” Lukas huffed, crossing his arms in indignation. “I’m _sorry_ for worrying over my _wife_ who is _starving herself to death._ ”

“I am not _starving myself to death,_ I simply don’t have much appetite,” she glanced at Kieran. “Must be the stress. You understand, right, Kieran?”

Her eyes widened at him, silently pleading him to agree so that her husband wouldn’t permanently crease his already dark visage; the trial was rapidly solidifying the marks, making him look like some sort of grouchy, thoughtful professor.

“It’s understandable.”

Lukas scowled at Kieran. “You’re supposed to side with me, you traitor. Who’d do your chores if my lovely wife were to get sick?”

Lila burst out laughing, followed closely by Kieran, and even Lukas cracked the tiniest of grins despite his clear irritation. While the couple debated whether to go get something to eat for Lila before the hearing, Kieran looked around the waiting area. A wave of white noise washed over the place, crowds of attorneys and clients conversing huddled in groups strewn all in different corners, Judges on break rushing about to and from courtrooms, and of course, no criminal courtroom was complete without distraught spouses and children. Hunched over in a corner, a disheveled-looking wife was held back by her teenage son from pouncing onto a cuffed man, swearing and screaming about her apparently deceased husband. By his side, amidst the bustle, he could make out Lila arguing that she _knew_ Lukas would go insane if they were to go down those packed stairs again as Lukas continued to fret about her nutrition.

Courthouses were chaotic places.

And to add to the chaos, a fire had just walked in.

Lauren Sinclair had just walked into the waiting area, sidestepping a pair of men as she strode across the floor. Dressed in an olive green ensemble covered in a heavy brown coat, coffee cup held delicately in her perfectly manicured nails, she huffed a strand of rebellious hair to the side as the crowd seemed to part to let her through like the waters of the Red Sea. The place could easily be hers if he judged solely by her confident gait, presence imposing on a whole different level to what he was used to; she didn’t adorn herself with silent threats coated in syrup or striking menaces on a hissing tongue. She was burning coals and certainty, existing in utter assurance of her own abilities, and there was no hint of hesitance in the way her heels clicked against the flooring. She didn’t need to cloak her strength to win, and she kept her power on full display. 

A different kind, indeed. A much welcome one.

She reached an empty bench near the courtroom, sitting on it as she crossed her legs at the ankles. In a second, she had pulled out various documents to occupy herself with as she adjusted her ponytail. Perhaps she spotted him from the corner of her eye, but she glanced towards his direction, quickly meeting his eyes directly. In that instant, glittering gold met swirling blue, and against all odds, she _smiled_ at him.

It was most likely out of politeness, but it was one of the brightest he had seen recently. Quick to adjust, Kieran grinned back, tipping an imaginary hat in her direction. She rolled her eyes, and that was all there was to their interaction. Yet, when she lowered her gaze to her papers again, hand running slowly through the blazing strands, it took him a heartbeat too long to tear his eyes away.

_Something indeed._

“Alright, we’re not going right now,” Lukas finally gave in. Lila had won the debate, smiling proudly. “But after the hearing’s done we’re going to get you a good meal and _so help me_ if you don’t eat everything on your plate.”

“Sure thing, honey,” Lila smiled, patting Lukas’ cheek affectionately.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m sure I’ll find my appetite, don’t worry. It really must be just the stress, you know how stressful this whole ordeal can get. Right, Kieran?”

“Definitely,” Kieran nodded, a wide grin on his face. “You should be better in a few hours. Lunch is on me.”

“How nice of you, White.”

“Your wife and I have to go back to the office after this. Let me treat you two to lunch because I’m afraid I’ll have to keep Lila at her desk for the rest of the afternoon.”

Lukas groaned. “Kieran, I’m seriously starting to regret recommending her to be your secretary. Can you _stop_ hoarding my wife? Get one of your own.”

Kieran cackled in mock menace, wiggling his eyebrows at Lukas. “Didn’t you know, Randall? I’m a spooky, scary dragon, and I’m going to keep the shiny things. All. To. Myself.” He reached both arms out, tugging Lila into his side as she giggled and swatted at him. “ _Mr. Desroses_ , your wife here simply glows! She is the light in my life, the savior to my darkness-”

Before he could continue, the clock in the courthouse chimed, interrupting his dramatics. Glancing over, he realized Lauren was no longer seated where she had been. Sighing, he released Lila, nodding decisively at the two of them.

_It was time for business again._

* * *

Despite being on somewhat friendlier terms now, both Lauren and Kieran understood that they were to maintain a professional demeanor in the courtroom. Greeting each other once again with a simple nod, both attorneys shuffled their papers with a few minutes left before the hearing started.

Lauren was _not_ about to go easy on him. Just because he didn’t _lie_ when he said that he believed Lukas was innocent didn’t mean that there wasn’t a job to be done. Her curiosity about her opponent wouldn’t stop her from fulfilling her duties as Prosecutor. Through the side of her vision, she could tell that Kieran also had no intention of surrendering as he shuffled his notepads and various pens before retrieving a set of documents and a navy blue fountain pen. She truly didn’t know why he bothered; of all the times she’s encountered him in the courtroom, he’s never used any other pen. At one point, she had actually hoped that one of them would explode in his briefcase. She was completely convinced that the man was pickier than William when it came to stationery, fashion, and tea. Lauren could not comprehend how he had the time to worry himself over such things.

The forensic examiner, medical examiner, and James Nichols were to be called to the stand today. Kieran appeared only to have one witness up his sleeve, she was quite certain that Nichols would have a large impact on the jury’s opinion. 

Adila walked in as the clerk announced her arrival, calling the court to order with practiced ease and authority.

“Well, Mr. White, Ms. Sinclair, are there any issues we need to address before the jury is brought in?”

Lauren stood, shaking her head. “No, your Honor.” Kieran followed suit, only looking up briefly as he continued to organize his notes.

Adila nodded. “Well, in that case, I’ll have the bailiff call the jury in.”

The door to the jurors’ room opened, and the jury filed out slowly, taking their respective seats in the jury box.

“Are there any issues that you found with accommodations?” asked Adila, turning to look towards the jury. “As I understand, there were some issues with the pens on Tuesday, so I had them replaced. Is there anything else that we have to address before we begin?” Almost completely synchronized, they responded: “No, your Honor.” 

Judge Themins nodded, opening the file on the bench. “You may call your witness, Ms. Sinclair.”

“Thank you, we’ll call Grace Riverhood to the stand,” announced Lauren, tucking a few stubborn strands behind her ears.

Grace nodded politely at both Judge Themins and the jury as she sat down at the witness box.

“Ms. Riverhood, could you please tell us what your profession is?” Lauren began.

“I am the lead forensic examiner at the 11th Ardhalis Police Department Precinct,” Grace stated easily. 

“And what are your duties with the 11th APD Precinct?”

“I’m in charge of analyzing the forensic evidence excluding the autopsy, though I will work with the medical examiner if poisons and other substances are involved.” 

“Ms. Riverhood, I would like you to take a look at Exhibit 1 here,” Lauren gestured to the board propped up near the witness and jury boxes. “Could you please explain this first exhibit to us?”

“Of course,” Grace smiled politely. “This was the vial found in Mr. Randall’s hand at the crime scene.”

Lauren nodded at her, signaling her to continue. 

“The vial itself was made of dark borosilicate glass, and it has a capacity of two milliliters. The vial had been corked, but also had a hole in the center, which was likely used for the syringe.”

“Thank you. Do you recognize this syringe you speak of in any of the other exhibits on this board?”

“Yes, the syringe used is shown in Exhibit 2. It was relatively short, which made sense since the vial itself was also quite small.”

“What was in the vial?” 

“Small traces of batrachotoxin were found in the cork and in the vial, so we are quite certain that is what was contained.”

Lauren looked down at her notes, discreetly scratching off points one at a time. “And was batrachotoxin also found in the syringe?”

“Correct, batrachotoxin was also found in the syringe.”

“I would, at this time, like to admit Exhibits 1 and 2, your Honor,” Lauren said, turning to Judge Themins.

Kieran stood up briefly, pen still in hand. “No objection, Judge.” 

“Those exhibits are admitted then,” she said.

Lauren then turned back to Grace, continuing smoothly with her questioning. “If I recall correctly from the autopsy report, Captain Hermann died from batrachotoxin poisoning. Was there anything found on these materials that would suggest they were used on Captain Hermann?”

“Yes. There were small traces of blood that matched Captain Hermann’s blood type, but we cannot be certain that it was _his_ , since we only have the blood type.”

“Would it be fair to say that these materials were involved in Captain Hermann’s death?”

Grace pondered the question briefly before answering: “I suppose so, but there is always the possibility that a different set of equipment was used.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Riverhood. Were any fingerprints found on these two items?”

“Yes. Mr. Randall’s fingerprints were found on both of these, though some on the syringe were incomplete.” 

The jury nodded, scribbling down this fact. Kieran grimaced, certain that many of them were now thoroughly convinced of Lukas’ guilt. After all, what was out there that was more incriminating than finding the fingerprints of a suspect in the murder weapon?

“I’m going to ask you to take a look at Exhibit 3 here on the bottom left of the board, Ms. Riverhood. Could you please explain what it is?”

“We found shards of glass near Captain Hermann’s bookcase, some of which are shown in Exhibit 3. My team determined that it was soda-lime glass, which is commonly used for objects such as drinking glasses.”

“How did the glass end up at the foot of the bookcase?” 

Kieran stood abruptly, pen still in hand. “Objection, speculative, your Honor.” 

Adila nodded, “I’m going to sustain that objection.”

“All right, I withdraw the question.” Lauren glanced down at her notes briefly before continuing, trying her best to bite down a burst of irritation. “Were glass shards found anywhere but at the foot of the bookcase?”

“There were a few glass shards found scattered around the bookcase, but the artisans who make this particular brand of glass are well-known for making so-called “shatter-resistant” pieces, which might explain why the pieces were mostly in large chunks rather than in little pieces. No shards were found above the bottom shelf.”

“I’d like to admit Exhibit 3 as well.”

Once again, Kieran stood up. “No objection to that admission, your Honor.”

Adila nodded quickly. “Exhibit admitted.”

“Could the location of the glass and the direction it came from be determined?”

“Well, since the brand’s pieces are quite shatter-resistant, we couldn’t determine the amount of force. However, since there were no glass shards found on _top_ of the books on the bottom shelf, the evidence suggests that the glass was thrown or swept off the desk or another area of similar height with a moderate amount of force, causing it to shatter at the foot of the bookcase without small pieces of it ricocheting onto the top of the books.”

“Thank you, Ms. Riverhood.” Lauren examined the jury through the sides of vision and saw that the university student was already halfway through her notepad. _Hopefully, she won’t break another one of our pens today._

“Mr. White, you may ask your questions now.”

Kieran smiled warmly at Grace, waiting for each juror to finish with their notes before beginning.

“Good morning, Ms. Riverhood.” 

“Good morning, Mr. White.”

“You mentioned that Mr. Randall’s fingerprints were found on the vial and syringe, correct? And a portion of them were incomplete?” 

“Correct, his fingerprints were indeed found on both items.”

Nodding, Kieran continued, tapping his fountain pen gently against the desk. “Were any _other_ fingerprints found on the two items?”

“No, our team didn’t find any other fingerprints...at least, none of them were complete enough for analysis if they _were_ there.” 

“Was there any smudging at all of the fingerprints you were able to find?”

“No, there wasn’t. The fingerprints were quite clear, which is why our team could be mostly certain they belonged to Officer Randall.”

“I see. Did there appear to be any elongation of the fingerprints due to movement?”

“No, there wasn’t. The fingerprints were very clear. Our team was able to compare them quite easily to the set of inked fingerprints we have from Officer Randall’s APD file.”

“Alright,” Kieran hummed. Lauren was beginning to get slightly uneasy with his questions. She had no clue why he was fixating on the fingerprints; Grace had already repeated that they were exceptionally clear multiple times. 

"Were the fingerprints pristine," Kieran asked, likely trying to verify another aspect of the fingerprints to prove a point to the jury.

“Objection, asked and answered,” Lauren stated, quickly tiring of her opponent’s echoing questions.

“I apologize, your Honor. I am merely trying to confirm the facts before I continue.”

Adila stared down at them as she scrawled her notes quickly. “Please, make it quick Mr. White.”

Nodding, Kieran resumed his questions. “Alright, Ms. Riverhood. I have only a few more questions for you before we move on to the next topic. Mr. Randall was found unconscious under Captain Hermann’s desk with the vial in his right hand, correct? How loose or tight was his grip over the vial?”

“Correct. His grip was also mildly loose. It was barely enough to hold the vial, which is why we think it didn’t smudge when we removed it from him. It basically slipped out of his hand.”

“Then why wouldn’t the fingerprints elongate or smear when he loosened his grip on the vial if he had been holding it? He could not have _possibly_ held that vial with that grip if, as you said, it _slipped out of his hands_.”

Grace frowned but didn’t respond.

“Additionally, Ms. Riverhood, when individuals use a vial and syringe, would you suppose that they use the syringe with their dominant hand or their non-dominant hand?”

“I…,” she hesitated before responding, “I would assume they would hold the syringe with their dominant hand.” 

Kieran grinned, looking almost like the Cheshire Cat. _That’s...that’s actually mildly unnerving_ , muttered Lauren, who wasn’t expecting him to have anything to smile about through the course of the trial.

“Ms. Riverhood,” he said, smile still plastered onto his face, “were you aware that Mr. Randall is right-handed? He writes with his right hand, shoots with his right hand, and throws with his right hand. According to what you said, it makes no sense that the vial would be found in his right hand. Additionally, the fact that his fingerprints were perfectly clear and unsmudged introduces the possibility that maybe his hands were _pressed_ onto the vial similarly to how his hands were _pressed_ onto his file?”

Grace only muttered a “yes” before he continued, eyes glowing.

“He was found unconscious under a desk. If there had been a third party who came onto the scene at any point in time, which is a possibility none of the officers who testified could discredit. Examiner, could you also explain briefly how fingerprints are analyzed?”

Grace, who was barely holding her professional demeanor as the attorney called almost all of the key evidence into question, took a deep breath before continuing. Lauren knew where Kieran was going with his argument, and she hated not being able to stop it.

“Well, if we have fingerprints from a scene, we lift those from the piece of evidence they were imprinted on. Then, we will compare those fingerprints with the prints of various suspects. Our team generally has two different analysts examine the pairs of fingerprints, and they aren’t told which case the fingerprints are from to prevent biases. We look for points where the fingerprints match, such as where ridges intersect and the amount of space between ridges. The APD requires there to be at least 12 points of similarity for the fingerprints to be considered a match, but most of the time we don’t consider prints to conclusively come from the same source unless we find 15 points of similarity.”

“Thank you, examiner,” Kieran nodded at her. “Now, you mentioned that fingerprints are analyzed by two different analysts, correct?”

“Yes, we try to make sure that both declare the same results before coming to any conclusion.” 

“This means that there is still room for human error in the analyses, correct? They could miss the same differences and accidentally declare the same similarities?”

“There is always room for human error, Mr. White.”

“Thank you. No more questions, your Honor.”

Judge Themins turned in her seat to look at Lauren. “Any redirect, Ms. Sinclair?”

“No, your Honor.”

“In that case, you may call your next witness.”

“Please call Sarah Marquez to the stand.”

Sarah Marquez, a woman perhaps in her late thirties, stood up confidently from her spot in the audience and walked towards the witness stand, utterly relaxed as she was sworn in by the clerk. She repeated the oath as if it were known by heart, which Kieran didn’t doubt. She must have had her fair share of these formalities.

It was during this pause that Lauren took the time to collect herself from the total wreck Grace’s cross-examination brought to her arguments, sending her opponent a subtle deadly glare as she gathered her notes again. She inhaled deeply and stood when Adila nodded at her. She had to continue. She wouldn’t allow this man to sway her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Marquez,” Lauren smiled. “Could you please tell us what your occupation is?”

“I am the head medical examiner for the 11th Ardhalis Police Department Precinct.”

“Please tell us what your duties are as the head medical examiner.” 

“I lead my team in analyzing the bodies of victims and perform autopsies. We analyze tissues, fluids, and other organs to determine the cause, time, and contributing factors of death. We may also analyze the wounds of victims and suspects.” 

“Thank you. Could you please tell us about the results for Captain Hermann?”

“Well, as Ms. Riverhood mentioned previously, Captain Hermann died from batrachotoxin poisoning.” 

Lauren nodded in acknowledgment as if the mention of the toxin didn’t shake her to the core. “What _is_ batrachotoxin? Where does it come from?”

_As if she hadn’t memorized every last bit of information there was about it._

“Well, batrachotoxin is produced by the poison dart frog. It’s incredibly potent and is a cardio and neurotoxic steroidal alkaloid. It’s naturally occurring, but that doesn’t make it any easier to obtain, since the golden frog cannot produce this poison in captivity. Just one milligram of it is enough to kill ten to twenty adult humans.”

“What effects does batrachotoxin have on a human?”

Sarah tilted her head to the side, adjusting her silver glasses with her fingers before continuing. “Well, its neurotoxicity means it has an incredibly large impact on the nervous system. It causes an increased sodium ion permeability, which affects the polarization of the cell membrane. What this basically means is that the nervous system is unable to send signals due to the normally voltage-sensitive sodium channels constantly being active.”

Sarah paused to judge how well the jury was understanding what she was saying. While the old professor, the businesswoman, the math teacher, and the college student appeared to understand what she was saying, she noticed the varying degrees of blank confusion clearly apparent on the rest of the jurors’ faces.

“Well, alright. So what all that basically means is that the body will become paralyzed because batrachotoxin permanently blocks nerve signals from the muscles.”

Kieran could almost hear an audible “ _oh”_ resonating across the jury as they jotted down the symptom. He doubted many of them actually caught onto what Examiner Marquez was saying originally. The farmer had only stared at her blankly as if she were suggesting that they grow rice in the same place they grow cacti. 

“As I mentioned previously, batrachotoxin is also cardiotoxic, which means it can cause cardiac arrest,” she said slowly, now keeping a close eye on the jury to gauge their understanding before turning to look expectantly at Lauren. 

“Alright,” Lauren nodded. “What symptoms did Captain Hermann exhibit that made you determine that he died from batrachotoxin poisoning?”

“Well, we originally noted that he appeared to die from asphyxiation, which could have been caused by paralysis of his muscles. He was also choking on his own vomit when we discovered his body. Considering he was choking in an upright position, that increases the likelihood that he had been paralyzed and unable to move. Most people will hunch over when they vomit to avoid it flowing back down their throat and into their airway,” She pitched forwards a bit, pointing her nose to the floor to demonstrate her point. 

“Though we originally believed he died from asphyxiation, when we performed the autopsy, we also found that he suffered from cardiac arrest, which may have played a bigger role in his death. With both of these symptoms, we were quite sure that he was poisoned.”

“How is batrachotoxin administered generally? Is it lethal if someone touches it?”

“No, batrachotoxin doesn’t affect humans if there’s no open wound,” began Sarah. “However, if batrachotoxin gets into your bloodstream, it’s quite deadly, as I mentioned before. Different tribes of Colombian indigenous people have coated darts in poison, but currently, batrachotoxin is administered by assassins and other criminals through direct injection.”

Lauren hummed, tapping her nails against the table. “Ms. Riverhood previously mentioned that there was only a small two-milliliter bottle that appeared to contain batrachotoxin. However, only small traces were found. How much would be needed to kill an adult male of Captain Hermann’s size?”

“Even if the bottle wasn’t full, a fraction of a milligram is more than enough,” she replied quickly, “and since Captain Hermann was already nearing middle age, he would have had even less resistance than the average young adult.” 

“Could your team determine the time of death?” 

“Based on his temperature, we determined the time of death to be between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m. that morning.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Marquez. You also mentioned that your team would examine victims and suspects for injuries. Could you please tell us what you found on Mr. Randall?”

“Well, we examined Mr. Randall for head trauma first, since we did find him unconscious. While he didn’t appear to suffer from a concussion, he had a large swelling near the back of his head,” Sarah noted, gesturing to the appropriate location on her own head.

“Other than that, he had multiple bruises, mostly on his arms and knees, but he also had a large bruise on his cheek.” She paused, letting the jury take their notes as she recalled the details. Lauren didn’t fail to notice how even the barista, who seemed the most uninterested in the case, was now leaning forward slightly in her seat and even had a few notes on her papers, though they barely filled more than two pages.

“We also found evidence of friction burns on his palms and the side of his face, which was likely caused by the carpet.”

Lauren tilted her head to the side in mock musing, suddenly stopping her fingers mid-tap. “And, Mrs. Marquez, in your experience, what might have caused these injuries?” 

“Well, these could either be the result of a physical altercation, self-inflicted or inflicted by others without any retaliation on his part.”

“And in your opinion, Mrs. Marquez, based on Mr. Randall’s injuries, which would be the most likely contributing factor?”

“We really can’t conclude much,” Sarah sighed, mentally considering all of the possibilities. “The bruises could be caused by all three, while the friction burns would be harder to self-inflict.” 

“The bruise at the back of the head would likely not be self-inflicted, but that doesn’t help us narrow down the other two. All we can conclude are what objects caused those injuries, rather than the circumstances they were inflicted in.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Marquez,” Lauren said politely. She let the jury jot down a few more notes before turning to Adila.

“No more questions from me, your Honor.”

Kieran stood up automatically, brushing his blazer. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Marquez.” 

“Good morning, Mr. White,” she greeted him for formality, fully aware that he wasn’t really trying to bid her a good morning and inquire about her day.

“You noted that Captain Hermann’s death occurred sometime between 4 and 5 a.m., correct?” 

“Correct.”

“My client arrived in the office at approximately 4:30 in the morning. This means that there could be the possibility that Captain Hermann was _already_ dead by the time he arrived, correct?”

“Yes, that could definitely be a possibility.”

“You also told us that the scrapes on Mr. Randall’s palms and face were likely caused by the carpet, correct?”

“Yes.”

“But, as you said, Mr. Randall was found _under Captain Hermann’s table_. There isn’t any carpeting under his desk. The only carpeting in that office is near the door, and as you said, the friction burns are difficult to self-inflict. Does that mean, then, that he could have been, say, dragged across the carpet against his will while he was unconscious?”

“That’s indeed a possibility. As I said, we couldn’t conclude very much.”

“Did Captain Hermann have any injuries on him?”

“Yes, he did. He exhibited signs of resistance, such as a few bruises on his arms and his waist, likely caused by bare-handed punches. Nothing was broken, but it was hard enough to bruise his ribs,” Sarah gestured animatedly at the places she mentioned as she talked, clearly very interested in the point to be clear.

“Did Mr. Randall exhibit any bruises on his hands?”

“No, he didn’t. At least, not when we examined him. The only things on his hands were friction burns, and the bruises on his arm were on his forearms and elbows.”

“Thank you. No further questions, your Honor,” Kieran smiled easily at the jury, utterly at ease as he brushed a few strands of hair that had escaped his ribbon out of his eyes.

“No redirect from me, your Honor.”

“Very well, you are excused,” announced Adila, setting her pen down gently.

“Members of the jury, that takes us to noon, so we’ll take our lunch break right now and return at 1 p.m. I’d like to remind you all that you are _not_ to discuss this case, any of the testimonies you heard this morning, or any other evidence with anyone.”

The jurors nodded then filed out one by one. Kieran wouldn’t be surprised if he encountered any of them at the nearby cafe. 

“Ms. Sinclair, Mr. White.” Adila now addressed them directly, smiling gently. “Is there anything that needs to be addressed outside the presence of the jury?”

“No, your Honor,” Lauren began, already halfway done shuffling and reorganizing her small stack of papers.

“Nothing from me either, your Honor,” Kieran responded, tucking his own pen back into its spot in his briefcase.

“I’ll see you both at one, then. Enjoy your lunch,” she said, hurrying into the Judge’s chamber. 

Lauren only smiled at him curtly as she walked past him towards the exit, allowing the fragrance of lightly burnt sugar waft past him. Shaking his head, he snapped his bag shut, and tried to think about food instead of the ruby-red hair that had occupied his periphery vision for the past morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  _*In a writing group as I was writing this chapter and tearing my hair out*_
>>
>>> **Waters** : I literally just wrote "that's lowkey unnerving" for Lauren. What have I done. Literally, "that's lowkey unnerving, no cap".
>>> 
>>> **Rabbit** : "Deadass," said Lauren
> 
> Hello everyone! Waters here.
> 
> We hope you enjoyed the brief break from legal action this Wednesday and liked that nice, tooth-rotting fluff! Poor babies...they need a break.
> 
> Speaking of needing a break, this chapter was literally the hardest to write so far. The details, the actual _questions_ that they had to ask...those all tortured me so much. Giggle and I brainstormed what we wanted to be revealed and discussed, but I was tasked with actually coming up with the courtroom action. It was a difficult process to figure out how to present the questions so that you guys got everything but still had them both on equal footing. Hopefully we didn't bore you with the details, we tried to **mAke iT sPIcy** :))
> 
> Kieran...Kieran's honestly just so _done_. He's trying his best, y'all. He truly is. The poor man deserves a break ahahhaha :))
> 
> There's another [chapter of _The Moonlighters: The Files_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831047/chapters/66713341) available! Go check that out if you'd like 
> 
> Leave a thought if you wish, we love your comments!! We might post another fluff fic instead on Wednesday....so we'll see :))


	12. Disturbing Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > He walked over to the other side of the desk, palms brushing along the wooden floorboards towards what appeared to be a coin or token of some sort.
>> 
>> March stopped in his tracks, every single drop of blood on his veins turning to ice as he got a closer glance at the reflective speck on the floor.
>> 
>> It was most definitely not a coin.  
> 

Lunch had been surprisingly pleasant for Kieran. 

He had managed to get a good seat away from the chaos in the restaurant for him, Lukas, and Lila to enjoy a pleasant, thankfully full meal. Seeing Lila eat relaxed Lukas beyond reason. Kieran didn’t really understand Lukas’ immense fuss over the food on his wife’s plate, but he had to admit that he was worried for Lila as well. Now, as he sat down after his direct examination of James Nichols, he was praying that his current mood wouldn’t be completely tarnished by his opponent.

Evidently, his prayers went utterly ignored and went unanswered.

Lauren Sinclair was apparently done playing nice. That is, if she  _ had  _ been playing “nice” at all, the shine in her eyes revealed whatever hunger for success she had been suppressing until this point. Before she even began with the pleasantries, Kieran knew that he could prepare for a migraine.

“Good morning, Mr. Nichols.” 

“Good morning, Ms. Sinclair,” James replied steadily, apparently more confident than he had been at the preliminary hearing. That, however, wouldn’t last long.

A scowl would probably make him less uneasy than the perfectly polite smile on her face did. Though she had never been rude or aggressive, bound to her formalism by work ethics and essential etiquette, he was used to being able to somewhat discern his opponent’s emotions. The woman was expressive, her eyes like the pages of a book. Not always the easiest to read, but enough so that close examination would provide him answers. Today, though… He truly had no clue what she had planned.

“You stated earlier that the curtains were open in Captain Hermann’s office today, correct?”

James nodded tentatively. The man clearly hadn’t forgotten the gleam in the prosecutor’s eyes from the preliminary hearing, and the fact that she was trying to convince the jury seemed to scare him even more.

“I’m going to need you to respond verbally for the record, Mr. Nichols.”

“Correct, yes.”

“Well, if we look at the preliminary hearing transcript, you noted that they were  _ ‘half-closed’  _ in that hearing,” She tilted her head, feigning confusion. “So, Mr. Nichols, were you lying  _ then _ , or are you lying  _ now _ ?”

Kieran caught James’ eyes, nodding at him and subtly miming a deep breath, hoping the audience, judge, or jury wouldn’t notice. He couldn’t reverse what was already done, so all that was left for James to do was damage control.

James inhaled deeply before responding. “I wasn’t, Ms. Sinclair,” he protested. “I said they were open enough for me to see, and that my vision wasn’t completely blocked.” 

Lauren nodded, letting the point go as she gauged the jury’s reactions. “I see. Mr. Nichols, thank you for clarifying. How long have you worn glasses? Do you have a history of vision problems?”

From his seat, Kieran tensed.  _ Why is she asking about his glasses now? _

James touched the rim of his glasses subconsciously. “Ah… Since I was young,  _ madame _ . Probably since I was a teenager.”

“Probably?”

“I- I cannot recall exactly,  _ madame _ . I’ve worn them for a long time.”

“So are you  _ absolutely _ sure it was two figures that morning at Captain Hermann’s window?”

James stuttered for a couple of seconds before replying: “I… In fact, they were very close. I… I couldn’t see much. As I said, the curtains were partially drawn.”

“So are you sure or not?” Lauren arched an eyebrow. The businesswoman in the jury wore a similar expression, having set down her pen completely and sat sternly, fingers laced as she stared at James. Despite the eyes on him, the baker took a deep breath and continued his testimony.

“I guess not  _ absolutely _ sure, madame, but I did see the figures.”

“And, perhaps, was there anyone else with you when you saw the window? Someone that could confirm it was, indeed, two figures?”

James shook his head. “No, madame, I was alone.”

“Mr. Nichols, do you agree that it was quite dark that morning, despite the streetlamps?”

James murmured a quiet “yes.” 

“Please speak up, Mr. Nichols.”

“Yes, it was dark,” replied James, who was becoming increasingly anxious as Lauren continued.

“So you  _ could  _ have possibly missed something?”

“I- I might have, but I’m certain it was-”

“Mr. Nichols,” Lauren had to bite back a smile. It had been a shot in the dark, but it paid off. She continued, not letting James finish his sentence. She knew it was challenging protocol, but she had  _ technically  _ already let him finish his answer. “Were you able to see what happened in the APD building between the time you saw the figures and when you saw Officer Randall?”

“No, madame. I was inside, preparing the bread.”

“So, to clarify, you said you saw two figures in the building while you were walking to the bakery  _ in the dark _ ?”

“Correct.”

“And after that, you were  _ inside _ preparing the dough until you stepped out and saw Mr. Randall walk past your bakery door at 4:30 a.m., correct?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened.”

“And Mr. Nichols, could you be certain that Mr. Randall hadn’t  _ already  _ walked past your bakery door before you saw him at 4:30 a.m.?” she inquired easily.

“No, as I said, I was inside preparing the bread.”

“Thank you. No further questions, your Honor.” 

Kieran welcomed the migraine with open arms, well aware since the beginning that it was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it. They were right about Lauren Sinclair: she was skilled and ruthless, determined –or, rather, stubborn– and with an amazingly fast mind to unearth even the most obscure details that could help her case. Every day it was even more evident that his opponent was not someone to take lightly. And even despite their newly found friendlier terms, he couldn’t help a pang of irritation at the woman. Really,  _ really _ , in  _ any _ other case, he would be jumping like a little kid at the prospect of such a formidable rival, but in  _ this case _ , he really wanted to defeat her and get it done with so she would leave Lukas alone.

As she sat down, Lauren couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously amiss despite the sweet aftertaste of victory. She had held back her questioning about the glasses. She was waiting for the right moment to pull this card, and she wasn’t expecting it to come so soon or so perfectly, all thanks to the poor man’s confusion. However, her unease remained. Despite her apparent confidence, the fact that Nichols hadn’t lied even  _ once  _ was incredibly concerning. When it came to her ability, it never failed. She was incredibly proud of being able to hear the lies, even when sometimes it proved to be more a burden than a blessing; but when she didn’t hear them in the moments she thought she would, she was left at a loss. There were two figures in the window even  _ before  _ Lukas had supposedly arrived. James Nichols hadn’t lied about that. So who was the other figure?

* * *

It would soon be a month since the last time Hermann’s office was in use, a month since the Captain had passed away. A month since Will and Kym walked into an office with a corpse. A month since the 11th District was left without a Captain, a void that was yet to be filled by the Chief. A month since the funeral. A month since Lukas’ arrest.

_ It has been a difficult month _ , March sighed internally, standing in front of the office. It had been a month, but they had to keep going, and he was hoping that he’d uncover answers that had slipped by his attention the first time. It took little effort to lift the bright yellow crime scene tape, and he dipped under it easily. The office hadn’t been examined again after the discovery, which he found slightly questionable. Lukas’ case was growing more complicated, and he was baffled that nobody had tried to find some concrete evidence that could either solidify his guilt or prove his innocence. The forensics and the autopsy had revealed little that they hadn’t already known, and the meager pieces of gathered evidence were practically useless. 

This office was the only chance he had at saving one of his best officers.

The door creaked, stiff from disuse, and when he pushed it open to the inside, Oliver had to take a step back as dust that had piled on every surface billowed from the cold air rushing in from the hallway.

“It’s dreadful here,” March muttered to no one, taking off his cap. The place had been cleared after the initial evidence collection, so he cracked open the window slightly.

Now with ventilation, March stood next to the window and stared at the place, scanning the room for anything out of place. Hermann had a knack for haphazardly putting books and folders back into the shelves, adding to the already messy appearance of the room. The detectives had taken everything from the desk, though, leaving only the old, malfunctioning lamp on the desk. It refused to flicker on again, as it did regularly when Captain Hermann occupied the office.

The bookshelves didn’t initially appear to be lacking anything, as the detectives had noted. But something felt off about the messy rows of books, so he stepped towards the bookcase, swiping at the air in front of his nose as dust infiltrated his airways.

Hermann, ever-eager to maintain his facade of professionalism, kept a large collection of books that he never touched. Tomes of encyclopedias and collections of police academy textbooks decorated the shelves, sat neatly organized, holding no information of importance for Hugues’ job. March slipped on a pair of gloves before pulling one out, having noticed fingerprints upon the thin dust layer of the covers. They definitely weren’t his, and they definitely weren’t Hermann’s. Nobody ever touched those books. Someone else had grabbed them.

Putting it back in place, March jotted down the observation on the battered notepad he kept in his pocket.

Glancing down towards the desk, he noticed something on the hardwood floor. March knelt down to examine it closer, but quickly noticed it was merely a stain from Hermann’s vomit if the odor was anything to go by. He reeled back slightly, blinking as the sun hit his eyes. Outside, the sun brightened for a second, sending a narrow beam of light towards March as he shielded his eyes, still crouched on the floor.

Perhaps the light was a small miracle, because as March peeked at the office through his fingers, he noticed something out of the corner of his vision, gently illuminated by the narrow beam of sunlight. A mere glimmer caught his attention. Though it was little more than a spark, March squinted his eyes, glaring at the tiny fragment of the sun that seemed to have slipped through the crack in the window.

There was something in there, tucked under the corner of the heavy wooden desk.

His fingers couldn't quite reach it, but he managed to loosen it with the tip of his pen, causing the object to roll out from where it was wedged under the desk to the floor on the opposite end of where March was. Crawling from under the desk in the spot where Lukas had been found, March carefully stood up, ensuring that he wouldn’t hit his head. He walked over to the other side of the desk, palms brushing along the wooden floorboards towards what appeared to be a coin or token of some sort.

March stopped in his tracks, every single drop of blood on his veins turning to ice as he got a closer glance at the reflective speck on the floor.

It was most definitely not a coin.

His knees seemed to give in under him, forcing him to support his weight with his elbows. Chills ran through his body, as if he had run into a snowstorm in his pajamas. He felt frozen, as if his soul had suddenly taken a vacation from his body, leaving his body numb from head to toe.

What lay before him caused him more dread than it should.

His hands shook as he reached out to pick up the object, small enough for him to hold between his index finger and thumb. It was so well-polished that the light could trick you into thinking you held absolutely nothing at all, yet shimmered brightly enough to be mistaken for gold.

It was nothing but a small button, engraved with a crest.

March swallowed.

It was the Viper Family Crest.

* * *

“Good evening, Lady Lauren.”

“Good evening, Lucy,” Lauren sighed, stumbling into the Manor, dragging her feet through the door and kicking it closed with her heel.

“You’re home early, my lady,” Lucy noted, taking her coat and hanging it in her forearm as Lauren pulled her hair from the ponytail it had been stuck into all day. Lauren hissed as the locks fell down past her shoulders and gently massaged her scalp, tossing her hair around to relieve the tension.

“I had a long day,” Lauren sighed, again, bending to get her stilettos off. “I didn’t have much to do at the office after the hearings, or at least nothing I couldn’t get done here, so I decided to come home early. For once, I’d had too much of the courthouse.” She rubbed her heels, which were slightly pink due to the chill outside.

“Did you have lunch?”

Lauren averted her eyes. “Uh…  _ Technically _ , I did.”

“Please go to the dining room, Ms. Sinclair.” Despite Lucy’s warm tone and gentle smile, it felt less like an invitation and more like a demand. “Dinner is almost ready; I’ll have it served for you soon, my lady,” she extended her hand, demanding the purse. “And I’ll take your things upstairs, so you can eat without  _ distractions _ .”

“Alright, alright, I got it,” Lauren chuckled, handing Lucy the purse. Lucy bent down to grab the heels and disappeared upstairs, leaving Lauren alone in the dining room, chuckling at the maid. It seemed Lucy was reaching her limit with the neglect of her health. Any day now, she’d try to drop sleeping drops in Lauren’s drinks to fix her sleeping schedule. Lauren was surprised she hadn’t done so already, since Lucy was already forcing food down her throat.

Lauren was waiting for Lucy at the table, staring absentmindedly at the ceiling when the maid came down. “I assume Uncle Tristan has yet to arrive.”

“You assume correctly, my lady,” Lucy bowed. “Excuse me while I go to the kitchen, Lady Lauren.”

“Go ahead, Lucy.”

Lucy’s attempts to keep Lauren’s head away from work were well-meaning, and Lauren was thankful she had someone who cared so deeply for her, but her efforts often ended up being for naught when Lauren had so much to think about. The hearing had been grueling, the evidence contradictory, and though she had managed to set doubt into Nichols’ statement, it didn’t appear to be enough. Not when Kieran had brought up the fingerprints’ pristine conditions, when even the detectives had overlooked that they were much too clear to have been held, especially with Randall’s non-dominant hand. It was unnerving the man would just notice something like that. It was unnerving that  _ it made sense. _

Lauren drummed her fingertips on the table, trying to shake off the doubt.

There was no way, it had to be a mistake. Maybe Randall had a particularly strong, unwavering grip, or perhaps he wasn’t one to fidget with objects. He was an officer trained to shoot, he had to have steady hands to aim correctly; she had seen Kym’s at the shooting range before. Her hands exhibited no tremors, no uncertainty. Will was not quite as skilled as Kym with a gun, but he held his weapon in a similar fashion, steady and firm. Maybe Lukas had similar talents.

_ For god's sake. _

She was trying too hard to fight a fact. Everyone played with the things they held. It was a natural mechanism, because no person could permanently stand still, much less when they were holding something. If he had truly been the perpetrator, he would have the extra pressure and adrenaline working against him, too. She refused to surrender the fight, but she also had to face the fact that Kieran had good points.

Curse Lukas Randall for having about everyone in the 11th on his side, for staying at the crime scene, for having a perfect record.

Curse James Nichols, for not lying, for being truly honest when he said he saw the figures, for leaving his house earlier that day.

Curse  _ him _ . Curse Kieran White. Curse him in the name of every deity that ever existed, for his spotless wording, for his tricky questions, for his obvious confidence. For making her  _ doubt _ .

The phone rang, shattering her peace as she raged in her seat.

It took Lauren all of two seconds to get to the phone, her mind racing faster than she could comprehend. No one called at the Manor at this time, since everyone knew that most days, neither Lauren nor Tristan got home this early. Everyone called their offices directly if they needed anything before eight-thirty in the evening, and they only ever called them at their home numbers if they were certain they were home to avoid bothering Lucy. Even then, not many people dared to call them home, and only those declared close enough or important enough to call after work hours would call.

Which meant this was, most likely, work.

Pulling the receiver to her ear, Lauren glanced at the door leading to the kitchen, praying Lucy wouldn’t return before she got to address whatever problem had just presented itself..

“Lauren Sinclair speaking, how may I help you?”

“Lauren, this is Oliver March.”

Just when she was thinking about the Randall case.  _ This case  _ literally  _ refuses to leave me a moment of peace. _

“Oh! Hello, March, how may I help you? Do you have anything interesting for me?”

“You see-”

She had missed the gentle footsteps rapidly approaching and the tinkling of the small wind chime attached to the kitchen door, noticing Lucy’s presence only when she had already snatched the receiver from Lauren’s hand and slammed it back onto its spot, an apologetic smile painting her lips.

“My deepest apologies for my intrusion, my lady, but dinner is ready.”

Lauren snorted in place of the fit of laughter threatening to escape her throat. “You’re getting more daring every time, Lucy.”

“I am merely concerned, my lady, please forgive me.”

“It’s alright,” Lauren dismissed the issue with a wave of her hand. “I’ll call March back to tell him to wait for me while I eat, is that okay?”

“Sure, Ms. Sinclair,” Lucy bowed. “I’ll place the table.”

“Thank you, Lucy.”

The call couldn’t have lasted any longer than 10 seconds, with Lauren explaining her predicament with Lucy to March before hanging up, not giving him any time to say anything. Lauren winced at the abrupt ending, glancing over at the dining table to see Lucy staring at her meaningfully. She’d have to apologize for that later. March surely had something important to say, judging by the urgency of his tone, but she really didn’t want to see what happened if she disobeyed the worried maid breathing down her neck. Though Lucy had always been kind and caring, she truly didn’t wish to be grounded for the first time in her life at age 25.

Lauren was only halfway through her meal before she heard a firm knock on the front door, causing Elise to rush from her spot before the shelf where she was dusting off the decorations to open the door for the visitor. She cracked the door open slightly and bowed, exchanging hushed words with whoever was behind the door before stepping aside to let them in. March came bursting into the dining room, rubbing his hands together from the cold.

Elise rushed to the dining room, bowing at Lauren. “Ms. Sinclair, Mr. Oliver March is here to see you.”

“Let him through, Elise,” Lauren smiled, leaving the chair at the same time Lucy poked her head through the kitchen door. “What happened, March?”

“I really, really need to talk to you, Lauren,” March breathed, still rubbing his hands. “It’s really urgent.”

“Let’s go to my office,” Lauren gestured to the stairs, earning herself a frown from Lucy.

“Lady Lauren, you haven’t finished your meal.”

Lauren sent Lucy a sheepish grin. “ I’m full already, Lucy, thank you.”

“But you have only eaten half of your plate.”

“It’ll be alright,” Lauren grabbed March’s sleeve and dragged him with her up the stairs. “I’ll be in the office should you need me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude, Lauren, I can wait until you finish your food.”

“I will not be able to eat a single thing until you tell me what happened,” Lauren stopped, turning to cock an eyebrow in March. “You wouldn’t have come here if it weren’t extremely important, and now that I know there’s something  _ beyond _ urgent you have to tell me, I will not be able to swallow anything. Is that clear?”

“I should’ve known better than to come here,” March mumbled to himself, following her down the hallway to the office.

“But it’s urgent,” stated Lauren pointedly.

“Very,” March exhaled, pushing past the door Lauren held open, waiting as she came inside and sat in her chair. Placing her chin on her laced fingers, Lauren stared at March as the man shuffled in his seat, digging his hand into his coat pockets.

“Tell me, what happened?”

March swallowed, took a deep breath, and began:

“I went through Hermann's office today,” he began. That alone caught Lauren’s interest; she was quick to understand where this conversation was leading. She leaned back on her chair. “I found some things in there, things that indicated that there was someone rummaging through Hermann’s things, and I already have people investigating whether something could be missing from the office. However, I also happened to find something under the desk.”

March was interrupted as they heard a light knock on the office door. 

“Come in,” said Lauren, slightly irked at the interruption.

Lucy came in, two cups of hot coffee on her tray. “Pardon my intrusion, my lady, but I thought both you and Mr. March could use some hot coffee.”

Both Lauren and March nodded at her appreciatively as she left before he continued rifling through his pocket. Finally finding what he was looking for, he took out a picture and handed it upside down to Lauren, as if telling her to brace herself for what she’d find on it. She’d be lying if she said the frown on March’s face, the slight tremor of his hands, or the expectation of the contents of the pictures didn’t tighten the knot of anxiety in her stomach. She knew March. He wasn’t a man to be easily shaken, for he had seen countless crime scenes throughout his life.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Lauren flipped the picture.

Every last bit of air left her lungs.

“How…” she slipped her fingers through her hair, pushing her bangs back. “How did this get to Hermann’s office?”

A Viper crest, engraved in a tiny golden button.

For a second she found herself hurled thirteen years back. Back when she was still a child with daisies in her hair, when she walked home back from playing with Dylan and Will at the park and noticed a group of police officers crowding the entrance, the neighbors crowding the street, and some familiar faces poking through the windows. When her uncle noticed she was trying to make her way through the crowd, squeezing her nanny’s hand, and had burst through the door and hoisted her up, hugging her and tucking her face into the chest. He shushed her questions and rocked her, whispering comforting words.  _ You will need to be strong, little Ren… _

“It was under the desk, which is probably why it went unnoticed by my detectives,” March said slowly, tugging her back into the present. She wasn’t a child. This time, she didn’t have her uncle to encourage her. She was alone right now, and she had to be strong.

“There are no traces of anything we can identify a perpetrator with within it, but it’s a huge lead in this case,” March continued. “It’s not much, and I already had suspicions, but now they’re confirmed.”

“So Lukas Randall is a Viper?”

That seemed to irk March.

“We can’t be sure it’s his.”

“We can’t be sure it isn’t his, either,” Lauren countered. She had always been taught that. She was paid to do that. Though the law stated that everyone was innocent until proven guilty, in Lauren's mind, everyone was guilty of _something_ before being proven innocent. And even when she was little, when she was a naive little girl, she had always been one to argue against the world, because she knew better. She _thought_ she did. “What else did you find?”

“Fingertip marking in a book coated in dust, an unused book,” March sighed. “Decorative, if you must. No one ever used them. It’s also not much to go to, but it’s my job to dig for the truth.”

“What will you do now?”

“Dig up some dusty files, perhaps,” March says, and when her eyes cloud with darkness he adds: “We’ve had similar cases before. There might be a lead there.”

“Of course,” Lauren sighs, rubbing her forehead. She’ll be getting another headache soon. “I… Thank you for telling me, March. This is… To be honest, I’m not sure how relevant this is to Randall’s case, but it certainly is for me. Can I keep the picture?”

“Sure,” March nodded. “I know you. I know this is important to you.”

“It is,” Lauren breathes, her heart slowly slightly. She hadn’t even realized it had started pounding in her chest. “It is,” she repeats.

“I’ll be going, Lauren. As you can guess I have a whole mess to deal with at the Precinct,” he was already halfway outside the office, waving over his shoulder to the woman who had yet to look up at him. “See you soon, Lauren.”

“See you soon, detective.”

The only proof of March’s presence in the room was the picture Lauren shoved into her purse after a few seconds of contemplation and the half-finished cup of coffee on the table. It took her a few minutes to collect herself, rubbing circles on her temples, praying that the headache throbbing in the back of her head would cease. She had to think about what would happen next. She knew the evidence would be reaching the trial soon, but her obligations as prosecutor forced her to make a call she knew she’d have to make eventually anyway. She had doubts now, and she needed answers. Lauren didn’t care  _ who  _ provided these answers anymore.

She had been longing for answers for thirteen years.

Digging out the card from the depths of her purse, Lauren dialed the number reluctantly, something in the back of her mind telling her she had barely enough time to make it.

She was about to leave it for the next day when someone finally picked up after the seventh ring.

“This is the office of Kieran White. Lila Desroses speaking, how may I help you today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Kieran: Dear Kieran White, today's going to be a _good_ day and here's-
>> 
>> Lauren: *exists*
>> 
>> Kieran: ... Nevermind.  
> 
> 
> Can someone _please_ give Kieran a break? XD March is also in dire need of a break. Or a drink, whichever comes first.
> 
> HEEYY!!! Giggle here! <3
> 
> Did y'all like this chapter? ;) I sure hope you did because, _yes_ , shit is about to go down.
> 
> I like to name sets of chapters "mini-arcs" in the middle of the bigger two arcs that compose _The Moonlighters_. Chapters 1-5 were the Introductory Arc, and chapter 12 marks the end of the Courtroom Arc (which doesn't mean we are done with the courtroom action, but as you noticed it was quite heavy from 6-12). Starting with chapter 13, we're getting into the Revelations Arc. So yes, shit is about to go down, and things will be revealed. Keep your eyes open *wink wonk*.
> 
> We'll go back to the regularly scheduled twice weekly updates! _Before Dusk_ will be updated sporadically, we'll tell you whenever that happens! <3
> 
> Do tell us your thoughts, we're eager to read them and we'll get back to you!


	13. Artful Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Kieran cleared his throat, handing the photo back to Lauren. “I suppose you wouldn’t believe us anyway, but if you wish to present this at the next hearing, know that I won’t put up a fight. You did show us before you brought it out, so technically, you’ve done your job.” 
>> 
>> “You know,” Lauren hummed, “I… I’m not sure that I don’t believe you anymore.”

L auren didn’t sleep well.

In fact, she barely did, greeting the sun on the dawn of the 20th of November with a groan. She had spent the night tossing and turning among the sheets, dwelling in the past like she was so accustomed to. At least awake, she could manage her thoughts. Once asleep, she couldn’t control what would show up in her dreams, and she’d be relentlessly chased by nightmares that’d wake her in a cold sweat and strangled gasps. Still, she preferred nightmares over happy dreams. Happy dreams, those where she would still be a child with loving parents and next to a boy with white hair among flowers, those that reminded her bitterly of what she had lost; she despised them. She hated happy dreams because they made her remember, even when she could never truly forget.

Lauren had already abandoned the bed when the sunlight tickled her windowsill with a cold glow characteristic of November. She’d have to begin dressing in heavier clothing because, if the clouds were anything to go by, it’d begin to snow soon. She’d rather not be caught underdressed in the bitter cold of glistening snow.

The image of a small crowd of children, bundled up in at least five layers as they chased each other through mounds of powdery snow, flashed through her mind. She shook the memory out of her head, choosing to pick a comfortable outfit out of her closet. It was Friday, and since she didn’t have to appear in court, she’d decided to wear pants instead. Lauren had little to do at the office today, and she’d likely spend a “leisurely” day at her desk, filling out paperwork and researching past cases for the files she had on hand. She had no doubts that she’d be finished and twitching at her desk for something to do before her appointment with Kieran White.

It didn’t particularly please her the prospect of meeting the attorney. However, she was forced to do it, because she had the obligation to share the evidence about the case with the defense.  _ Technically _ , she didn’t have to share the police’s findings unless asked to, but she was always one to fight on equal ground with her rivals, and withholding information relevant to the case could get her in serious trouble if the Judge found out. It was a serious violation of protocol to just sprout witnesses or evidence at a hearing. And though she wasn’t  _ required  _ to hand the evidence personally to her opponent, she wanted to be there when Mr. White and his secretary saw the picture, hoping to catch a lie or confession with her ability. Lauren rolled her eyes at herself; it seemed that whenever she was to meet with this man, she had ulterior motives.

Shutting her closet door, she pulled on the dark blue dress pants and tucked the ornate blouse into it. The layered sleeves ruffled as she slipped them into a maroon coat, pulling her hair into a chignon before she stuffed it all under a hat. After staring at her shoes, Lauren decided that she’d forgo the heels today, and instead picked up a pair of knee-high boots, which she shifted slightly in her grasp as she greeted her uncle at the breakfast table. She swooped into the chair by his side right as a set of blueberry pancakes appeared in front of her.

“Do you have a busy day ahead, dear?” Tristan glanced at her, chewing on his own stack of pancakes layered with fresh raspberries and honey.

Lauren shrugged, reaching down as she zipped her boots. Lucy was particularly adamant about not wearing shoes past the dining room unless guests were present, and most of the occupants of the Sinclair Manor walked around in house slippers.“To be honest, not very busy, Uncle. I wish I had more work on my hands.”

“I’m sure you do, dear, but I’m afraid I have to walk on pins and needles with you if I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Tristan scoffed, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards. He turned to Lucy, who was serving them more coffee. “Lucy, am I exaggerating?”

“Not at all, Master,” Lucy chuckled, turned, and walked back to the kitchen.

“See?  I _never_ exaggerate ,” Tristan laughed at Lauren’s pout. “And you’ve got to remember we have other people working at the office too. You don’t have to take  _ all  _ of the cases on our shelves to be a good prosecutor, Lauren.”

She chewed on her pancakes thoughtfully.  _ But I  _ feel  _ useless when I’m not overworked. _

“ I suppose so, Uncle, ” she agreed easily, nodding at him. Tristan had also chosen a slightly more comfortable outfit for the office, forgoing his usual tie and vest and choosing to just wear a button-down and blazer. 

Lauren hugged Lucy as she handed the empty plate back to her, her boots clicking as she strode towards the front door.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you both,” she paused at the door, readjusting her hat. “I probably won’t be home until late today. I promise I’ll at least  _ try  _ to eat, Lucy.”

As she closed the door behind her, she could hear Tristan chuckling at Lucy’s irritated huffs, likely mumbling about how she couldn’t even force Lauren to eat since she wouldn’t be home as she picked up the plates.

* * *

Lauren leaned back in her chair, hands over her face. She had originally hoped that being a productive member of society and  _ actually getting some work done _ would keep her mind from wandering to her scheduled appointment in a few hours, but throughout the day, she found herself groaning whenever the thought of the meeting snuck into her consciousness.

Kieran had asked to meet him at his office at 8:00 p.m. after everyone else at the firm would have likely gone home or were holed up in their own office. He had claimed to have a busy day ahead and proposed that arrangement when she refused to leave it for any other day. She glanced at her watch and blinked blearily.  _ Was it already 7:30? _

She drew Mr. White’s business card out of her purse, scanning the ivory paper for the address. His office was luckily only a ten-minute drive from hers, and since she  _ had  _ promised Lucy that she’d try to eat, Lauren stopped in the way to grab a quick meal from a nearby cafe. A pastry with some coffee would suffice. Not a lot in terms of quantity, but currently she felt too anxious to swallow anything more than that, and it was better than nothing.

Though the line at the cafe didn’t please her at all, she was even less keen on the idea of arriving at Kieran’s office early. She didn’t want to seem desperate, and she also didn’t want to run into any questionable clients of his, because _dear god_ knew what kind of people he’d work with. The tapping of her shoes and the clouds leaving her mouth were the only things that accompanied her sigh, hands tucked inside her pockets as she walked down a bustling sidewalk. 

_ At least I won’t be lying to Lucy tonight.  _

* * *

Lauren rubbed her arms hurriedly, her steps echoing in the marble tiles of the lobby. Kieran’s office building was just as decorated as she had expected, with its pristine flooring and elegant furniture.  _ I don’t even  _ want  _ to see how decked out his office is _ , she grumbled to herself, disgusted.

Though the DA’s offices were by no means small, none of the prosecutors that worked there had fancy workspaces. She knew that the most expensive items most of them kept were comfortable chairs and large, sturdy desks, seeing as most of them practically lived there. Some of the older attorneys kept small couches in their office, probably used when they had to stay in the office all night and needed a place to sleep. Sleeping hunched over a desk was  _ terrible _ for one’s body, as Lauren knew from personal experience. She’d never forget that one time she had spent the night at her desk in the office and woke up with a sprained neck and lower back.

_ Never again _ .

The elevator brought her up to the Merritt, Bergrin, & Caramadre firm’s main floor. The giant firm, known for employing some of Ardhalis’ most competent attorneys, spanned three full floors, though Mr. Merritt, one of the retired partners and original founders, owned a larger portion of the entire building. Clients and visitors checked in on the first of the firm’s floors, and their attorney would bring them up to their office. Paralegals and associates took up most of the first two floors, while the partners occupied the third floor. Lauren herself had personally never visited the MBC’s offices, but she had heard of its lavish decorations and compact arsenal of attorneys that could hold their own in the courtroom.

Pulling open the heavy glass door, Lauren’s boots were quieted by the plush carpeting of the waiting area. The bells on the door jingled gently, causing the secretary at the front desk to look up at her. She smiled, silently shocked that such a prestigious firm would hire a male secretary, but continued towards the desk, setting down her purse on the wooden surface.

“Good evening,” the secretary began, “How can I help you today? Do you have an appointment,  _ madame _ ? Most of our attorneys are out of the office or preoccupied right now, since we’re a mere minutes from closing.”

“Yes, I’m sorry for coming in so late. I have an appointment with Mr. Kieran White? He told me to come in after-hours.”

The man’s face brightened in recognition. “Ah, you must be Ms. Sinclair. Mr. White had asked me to just bring you straight to his office when you came in.” 

Lauren nodded politely, following him down the long, winding hallways to a large, spiraling set of stairs that led upwards. She couldn’t help but notice how the cubicles and desks gradually grew larger and larger as she walked towards the back of the first-floor office, then morphed into small rooms when she stepped onto the second floor. She wasn’t surprised when the secretary stopped in front of a corner office, right in front of where another set of stairs likely led up to the partner’s lair on the third floor. 

“Mr. White should be inside,” he gestured to the desk by the door easily, turning to smile at her. “Ms. Desroses reports to him every night before she steps out, so she should be done soon.”

Lauren smiled at him. “I actually have to see  _ both  _ of them tonight. Thank you for walking me here; I’m not sure I would’ve been able to find his office otherwise.”

The man chuckled before walking back towards his desk on the first floor, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he said: “Well, I hope you remembered how to get back to the exit. Mr. White rarely walks his guests back out. He’s a little… Too preoccupied sometimes.”

Before Lauren could reply to him or knock on the door, however, it had already swung open. Kieran stepped out, hands pressed into the doorframe.

“Ben, I see you’ve been trash-talking me behind my back again!” he hollered down the empty hallway back at the secretary, causing a resounding tinkle of laughter from somewhere amongst the winding offices.

He turned to Lauren, smiling courteously at her. “Ah, Ms. Sinclair, I see you’re right on time. Lila’s made some coffee for you, please have a seat.” 

Lauren walked into the office, staring at the walls almost completely covered with bookcases. Not a speck of dust could be seen on the heavy tomes settled on the floor-to-ceiling shelves. Lila was already settled on the couch, two cups of tea and one cup of coffee set on the coffee table. She turned and smiled at Lauren, adjusting her round glasses.

“So, Ms. Sinclair-”

“Kieran, we’re in your office right now, not the courtroom. Lauren, please.”

“Yes, pardon me,” he waved his right hand, carefully balancing his cup of tea on his left, “Lauren, you told me you had something incredibly important to this case.”

“Yes,” she started, digging through her purse, “I needed to discuss something with you that could potentially change the course of the case.”

“I trust that you aren’t trying to propose a plea bargain?” Kieran chuckled, patting Lila’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Absolutely not,” Lauren cleared her throat, sliding the photo across the table. “No, there's a new piece of evidence that I wanted to discuss with you beforehand.”

Both Kieran and Lila stared at the photograph. “What...what are we looking at exactly?”

“Well, it was a button that Detective March found underneath Captain Hermann’s desk. And if you look closely, it has the Viper’s crest on it.” 

Lauren didn’t miss the way Lila’s eyes flitted over to Kieran briefly, who was frowning down at the photos in his hands.

“I was wondering if this belonged to Lukas?”

Lila leaned over to get a better look at the photo before responding. “No, this definitely isn’t Lukas’. He doesn’t even have buttons this small, and plus, he’d  _ never  _ associate himself with the Vipers.” 

Lauren blinked.  _ Did his wife not know what he had in his closet...or was he truly uninvolved? _

Kieran cleared his throat, handing the photo back to Lauren. “I suppose you wouldn’t believe us anyway, but if you wish to present this at the next hearing, know that I won’t put up a fight. You  _ did  _ show us before you brought it out, so technically, you’ve done your job.” 

“You know,” Lauren hummed, “I… I’m not sure that I  _ don’t  _ believe you anymore.”

A disbelieving chuckle sounded from across the coffee table, accompanied by a set of brown eyes widening. There was a brief moment of silence, attorney and secretary staring at her before Kieran broke into a grin. “You know, Lauren, I’m becoming increasingly surprised by you. Unfortunately, the firm is just about to close, and Mr. Merritt doesn’t like us staying too late after hours. I’m heading to my apartment after this; would you like to come up for some coffee?” 

He stopped abruptly, waving Lila out of his office. “I’m sure there’s much for us to discuss about the case, anyway. And plus, you got us both lunch last time, and I  _ hate  _ owing people things.”

He grinned at her, packing a large stack of files into his briefcase. “What do you say,  _ Ms. Sinclair _ , would you like some coffee? I promise that it’s better than what you get from the cafe near the courthouse.”

_ So he  _ hasn’t  _ forgotten what happened. _

She returned the favor, flashing a brilliant smile at him as she let her hair tumble out of her hat. “Of course,  _ Mr. White _ , it’d be my pleasure.”

* * *

As they walked to Kieran’s apartment, Lauren wasn’t quite sure exactly what had possessed her to accept his offer. To his apartment, no less. Ben, who was turning off all the remaining lights in the office, had practically tripped over his own feet when he saw the duo stepping out the glass doors, which Kieran had so  _ kindly  _ held open for her. 

Sure, Lila hadn’t lied when asked about the button, but that didn’t mean that Kieran wasn’t her opponent, an absolutely  _ arrogant, insufferable, h- _

Her thoughts screeched to a halt when she almost ran into Kieran’s back. Ignoring the glare that she tossed in his direction, he gestured for her to step into the building, doing the  _ stupid  _ thing with his hat, which wasn’t imaginary this time around.

“After you, Lauren.” 

She stepped into the building’s lobby, wiping her boots inconspicuously on the large doormat on the floor, eyes adjusting to the warm glow that enveloped the area.

Though the building looked relatively simple on the outside, its interior was nothing short of stunning. Lauren’s eyes drifted from the immaculately polished black and white checkerboard flooring to the gorgeously inlaid with ochre-colored brick walls. Delicate glass lamps hung off the walls glowing like jars of fireflies. A swath of glass and gold decorations hung from the U-shaped ceiling, guiding her sight to the gorgeous metal elevator that led to a clear ceiling, where stars sparkled gently in the night sky.

Two staircases crisscrossed their way on either side of the walls, leading to opposite sides of the building with each floor they touched. They were shockingly unobtrusive, sticking quite close to the sides of the building.

Kieran shook his head mirthfully at her shining eyes. “That’s the look that I had on my face when I first walked through the doors of The Silverado, too. Other than the second floor, which are staff quarters, all of the remaining nine floors only have two apartments each.”

Lauren arched her neck, suddenly noticing the twin platforms that extended from either side of the elevator positioned in the middle of the building. Polished mirrors glinted from their undersides, metal patterns spiraling across their surfaces.

He was midway across the small floor (she supposed that most of the building’s space was reserved for the actual units) when he abruptly turned from the direction of the stairs, cursed under his breath, and walked back towards the elevator. 

“Do you always take the stairs, Kieran?”

Kieran smiled tentatively, shifting his briefcase in his grip as they waited for the elevator. “Ah, yes. I suppose  I enjoy the exercise .” 

Lauren frowned at the lie, but decided not to press the issue. This time, he stepped through the doors first, pressing the button on the side panel. 

“You live in one of the penthouse apartments?” 

“Yes.” 

She turned to face him from her spot by one of the siderails, admiring the view as the elevator rose steadily. This was the second time she’d seen him this foreclosed and blunt giving only brief answers, and she couldn’t help but be slightly concerned within her annoyance.

“Are you… Alright?”

He didn’t look at her, eyes focused on the numbered display that slowly turned to match the elevator’s pacing, a bead of sweat making its way down his temple. Kieran’s spare hand was gripping the bronze railing, knuckles turning white from the strength of his grip.

“ Perfectly fine, thanks. ”

The elevator chimed, rocking to a halt. Kieran practically ran out of the elevator, almost dropping his keys from his shaking hands in the process. Lauren darted after him across the platform, unable to fully appreciate the building from the top floor as she struggled to keep up with his long strides. 

Oddly, the second he stepped off the platform and onto his side of the floor, he snapped back to his senses, suddenly at ease in his surroundings. Lauren couldn’t do anything but shake her head in confusion as he unlocked his door. 

“Well, Lauren, welcome to my  _ humble abode _ ,” he announced, throwing the navy blue door open. He walked in after her, closing it behind the both of them with a click. Sticking his own shoes back into the cabinet by the door, he handed Lauren a pair of soft slippers before tossing his briefcase onto the kitchen island. 

Though she wasn’t expecting Kieran to live in  _ poverty _ , Lauren definitely wasn’t expecting the elegant decorations of the penthouse apartment. She had to admit, the man had excellent taste. The entire apartment was practically devoid of walls, except for the area that she guessed was Kieran’s bedroom, which created the appearance of an absolutely massive living space. She followed him into the kitchen, feet sliding across the almost-charcoal hardwood floors, where he was taking a pair of mugs out of the cabinets. Peeking over his shoulder, she noticed that his dinnerware was perfectly organized in a fashion that appeared to sort the items by type, size, and color. 

_ I suppose that he  _ can  _ be organized _ . The one time she had peered over to his side of the desk during a hearing, she had found herself practically recoiling in horror at his notepad. It had been covered with scribbles, which were tossed about in no comprehensible fashion, and she had only shuddered and cleansed her vision with her own obsessively organized sheets.

“Make yourself right at home, Lauren,” he said, waving as he measured out coffee grounds. “I’ll get to you shortly.” 

Lauren had taken his offer and led herself around the apartment, stopping to stare in awe at some of the furnishings. From the moment she stepped into his place, she had noticed the large amount of light that streamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed a gorgeous view of Ardhalis’ nighttime cityscape. The attorney had windows  _ everywhere.  _ If anything, his apartment looked more like a museum exhibit than somewhere a person actually  _ lived  _ in. Tiny lamps, much like the ones she had seen in the lobby, hung off of the walls of the kitchen, causing a warm glow to bounce off of the tiled walls. Beside his blue-grey refrigerator, a collection of sturdy wood shelves held a heavy set of cookbooks, little succulents and potted plants, and a singular bowl. Upon closer examination, she found that it had been broken before, seemingly glued together with gold. 

_ Is this some kind of poetically pitiful representation of his “past hardships” that he brings out at dinner parties?  _

Not really wanting to stand in awkward silence with Kieran in the kitchen, she strolled into the living room area, narrowly stopping herself from crashing into the glass divider that served as one of its “walls”. A soft L-shaped couch sat in the middle, its long end allowing for the set of full-length windows to display Ardhalis City in what must be one of its most flattering angles. A simple chandelier with little baubles of glass hung from the living room’s high ceilings, casting a flurry of multicolored circles onto the cream-colored walls. A wooden staircase led to a small loft, which she assumed was his office, judging by the large desk that was surrounded by towering bookcases.

Two more shelf-dividers loosely enclosed the living room, half of the little square spaces containing paintings while the other half held cascading plant arrangements. Through the small spaces of the dividers, she realized that his  _ bedroom  _ was on the other side of the dividers.

_ Does he love books  _ so  _ much that he’d forgo walls to store more books?  _

She stepped towards the fireplace, where a large painting of flowers hung above it. It was a beautiful, incredibly detailed depiction of a bouquet; the blue, pink, and purple blooms almost popped out of the canvas. Looking at the coffee table, she noted a transparent black vase held the same flowers. She recognized the flax flowers and cosmos flowers immediately, distinctly wrapped surrounded by green leaves she couldn’t name. There was a third flower, but she couldn’t remember what its name was.

Before she could continue her exploration of Kieran’s apartment, however, she was interrupted by his gentle footsteps across the wooden floor. He held two ceramic mugs in his hands, one a powdery green and the other a gentle lilac. 

“No milk, no sugar,” he quipped, handing the green mug to her.

“Thank you,” Lauren bowed with her head, accepting the steaming mug. “Do you know what these flowers are? I can’t seem to remember.”

Kieran beamed at the huge, pinkish petals. “Those are amaryllises.”

“Right!” Lauren smacked her head gently. “Those. They’re awfully similar to lilies, that’s why I couldn’t remember.”

“They  _ are _ similar.” Kieran pointed to the loft. “We can head up to my office if you’d like, it’s probably a more familiar setting for you than the living room couch.” 

To his surprise, Lauren  _ laughed _ . “If I spill my coffee again, I’m sure that it’d be easier to clean it off the floor than the fabric of the couch.” 

* * *

Settled at his desk, Kieran was trying his hardest to hold his embarrassment at bay. He seemed to have a knack for making an absolute fool of himself in front of the red-haired woman, and he was intent on not seeming any more incompetent than Lauren likely already thought him to be. He’d been doused in hot coffee, mimed a gentleman tipping his hat in public, and now he had likely convinced her that he was an  _ absolute  _ fool who was scared of heights.

However, while he was silently admonishing himself, Lauren had begun walking around the loft, craning her neck to read the titles on the spines of the huge collection of books resting on the shelves.

“I see you’ve gotten yourself a copy of  _ The Great Gatsby,  _ Mr. White,” she hummed as she pulled the book from its spot, where it was snugly nestled between two larger novels.

Kieran’s head snapped up, a reminiscent smile on his lips. “Yes, that’s from its first time in print. It’s a first-edition copy.” 

“Is the story terribly relatable to you, Mr. White?” Lauren looked over her shoulder at him, head tilted in jest. 

“Well,  _ Ms. Sinclair _ ,” he sighed, lacing his fingers behind his head. “If you’re referring to my ability to entertain guests, I must say that it’s certainly unrelatable. And please stop with the  _ Mr. White _ , you’re making me feel horribly old.”

She hummed, tapping her fingers on the wooden frames. “Well,  _ Kieran _ , I trust that you asked me to come here for something more than coffee and literary discussion.” 

“Well,” Kieran coughed, taking a sip of his tea, “I… I meant to ask you about that button. And a few more things.”

Her posture stiffened as she nodded imperceptibly. “Go on.” 

Both of them had shifted back into their professional demeanors with ease, and Kieran noted that Lauren  _ also  _ kept a notebook and pen in her pocket, which she had whipped out. 

“Alright. As you mentioned at the office in front of Lila, there’s a Viper crest on that button. Do you suppose-”

“If you’re asking me if I think the Vipers did it, yes. Yes, I believe the Vipers did it,” interrupted Lauren. “Think about it. The Vipers have always specialized in poisons and assassinations, and the fact that their crest is  _ literally  _ there makes me feel like there’s a very, very slim chance that the Vipers weren’t involved in this murder.” 

Kieran hummed in agreement, pacing across the loft to stand in front of her. “That definitely would make sense. I’ve told you that Lukas isn’t associated with the Vipers, but…”

“But you don’t think I believe you.” 

“Right.” 

Lauren huffed, setting down her now-empty mug onto one of the coasters Kieran had set on his desk. “Well, I can’t say that I think you’re  _ lying _ , but while the fact that there’s a Viper crest at the crime scene adds a film of doubt, I can’t say it overturns the case. Your client was  _ still  _ found at the crime scene, and  _ all  _ of the evidence so far pointed to him. I can’t push for a directed verdict on this, Kieran, and you’ve made it very clear that you won’t be taking any pleas.” 

Kieran set down his tea next to her green mug. “Look, Lauren. I can’t stop you from bringing this evidence, since it’s your job, but if it helps at all, I’ll repeat myself. Lukas is  _ not _ , in  _ any  _ way, associated with the Vipers. He would  _ never  _ do that, and since I assume you’ve dug through his criminal record as well, you’d have noticed that it’s completely clean. I think there was  _ one  _ time he got a parking ticket, but that’s about it.” 

He tugged the ribbon from his hair, running his fingers through the glossy black strands before tying it back up in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. “Anyhow, I must admit that I have some  _ ulterior motives _ for inviting you.” Seeing Lauren step back from him ever so slightly, he laughed, waving a hand in front of his face. “Oh,  _ nothing _ like that, Ms. Sinclair. Don’t fret. I was simply curious as to why you’re so invested in this case. Is it just your professionalism speaking? I’ve never seen another prosecutor that was so…  _ Intense _ in any of their cases.” 

Lauren’s shoulders loosened as she sighed in relief. “Sorry about that, it’s a reflex at this point.” She stepped closer to the loft’s railing, leaning against it as she stared out the glass pane to her right. Maybe it was the height of the building, but the stars always seemed to shine a little brighter than usual outside, reflecting in the swirling gold of her eyes. “I… Well, yes. Yes, there’s a specific reason why I’m interested in this case, and why I’m so passionate about it, though I can assure you that I  _ never  _ give less than full effort in any of my cases.”

Kieran stared at her from the bookshelves, watching as the moonlight glints gently off her scarlet hair and snow-white skin. She was a vision under the moon. He had to remind himself he had to pay attention to her words, for he was too entranced by her ethereal appearance.

“It’s just that this case… This case is too similar to something that I’ve gone through. And at this point, I don’t really  _ care _ ,” she pauses, thinking about her words. “Well, I don’t even  _ know  _ if Mr. Randall is guilty, but I’m absolutely certain that I will bring  _ whoever  _ did this to justice, whether it’s your client or not.” 

He blinks, processing the meaning behind her words. He walked slowly to the railing on the other side of the stairs, turning his head to look at her as his short nails tinkled against the metal.

“Does that mean that you believe our side of the story, Ms. Sinclair?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” sighed Lauren. “I don’t believe you, since you’ve given me no real reason to, but I must say that I no longer have a reason for…  _ Not  _ believing you either, if that makes any sense.”

“Though I’m glad to hear that, Lauren,” Kieran began. “I’m incredibly curious as to what caused your sudden change of heart. Mere weeks, no,  _ days  _ ago, you still appeared to be completely convinced that Lukas had done it.” 

An odd look crossed her face as she adjusted the watch on her wrist. He had noticed it many times, she always seemed to wear it; it was a man’s watch, he was familiar with the shape and size. Kieran could hear its faint whirrs and ticks in the silence, however faint they were. 

“Kieran,” she murmured slowly, turning to hang her arms off the rails. “Do you believe in the impossible?”

He chuckled almost nervously. “Well, unless you’re trying to tell me you turn into a wolf under the moonlight, sure.” He sobered up quickly, eying her seriously. Stopping a second to think his words, he finally claimed: “I’ve defied the impossible my entire life. Surprise me.” 

“You’re going to think I’m  _ absolutely  _ insane, and I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” she huffed. “You have to promise me that you won’t laugh. I don’t care if you even  _ believe  _ me, but if you laugh-”

“I promise, Lauren. We’re both professionals here. You’d be surprised at the types of cases I’ve taken where I’ve had to hold in my laughter.” 

Lauren bit her tongue at this.  _ Actually, I won’t. I’m pretty sure I’m aware of every single case you’ve taken, Kieran, but sure.  _

“Alright. I-” Lauren inhaled sharply before she turned to lock eyes with him. “I can hear lies.” 

Silence blanketed the apartment as the shadows of rustling leaves bounced along the shelves, and it was almost too much, the silence. Lauren almost wished he had laughed. He was blinking slowly, staring into nothingness as he contemplated her words carefully.

“So you’re meaning to tell me,” Kieran stated, slowly, as if trying to explain the situation to himself. “That you thought I was  _ lying  _ this entire time? I mean, I get it, since many of us defense attorneys don’t ask our clients whether or not they ‘actually did it’ for fear that it’ll affect us, but did you  _ seriously  _ think that I was  _ lying  _ through my teeth?”

“ No -” Lauren responded hurriedly. “Well, yes. Okay, the issue with this human-polygraph ability is that it doesn’t tell me when someone’s telling the truth or a half-truth. It also only tells me when someone’s lying and they  _ know  _ they’re lying, if that makes sense. I’ve encountered multiple cases where people have told half-truths and were proven to be guilty. Also, if someone truly believes something that is objectively false, it’ll sound like a truth to me. It’s… Complicated.” 

“So, to clarify, you operated under the assumption that I was somehow telling half-truths? Or that I simply convinced myself that Lukas was innocent?”

“Correct,” Lauren sighed. “Look, I’m not sure why I told you this. It doesn’t impact the case at all, since what matters is what the judge and jury believe, and I’m just oversharing right now. Pardon me, forget I-”

“I… I believe you.” 

_ What? _

Kieran smiled at her tentatively. “I said, I believe you. Though I’m not sure  _ why  _ you have such an ability, it would explain why you’ve built yourself a reputation for being one of the most passionate prosecutors in Ardhalis City. Plus, I don’t believe that you’re one to joke.” His face split into a grin suddenly, and he winked at her. “I mean, have you  _ seen  _ yourself in the mirror? I don’t think I’ve seen anyone keep a straight face for that long, and you’ve spilled coffee on me. You’ve got to admit, that’s at least a  _ tiny  _ bit funny, right?” 

His grin faltered slightly when Lauren continued staring at him, not impressed at all. He winced. “Well, I suppose it might not have been funny for you, considering the fact that you saw me right afterward-”

Suddenly, the corners of Lauren’s lips turned upwards as she ran her hands through her hair in disbelief. “You  _ believe  _ me?”

“Is that so hard to believe? You should be able to tell that I’m not lying right now… Right?” 

“Well, yes. It’s just that I don’t know  _ why  _ you believe me, since most people I’ve told don’t appear to be convinced that it’s real. They assume it’s my love of the profession speaking for me in some sort of twisted representation of morality.” 

“Honestly, Lauren, I don’t really  _ care  _ how or  _ why  _ you suddenly have a shred of doubt about the case. It really doesn’t matter to me how that shred of doubt came to be, whether it be through hard evidence or your ability. All I know is that there’s a chance that you’ll also believe that my best friend didn’t commit a gruesome murder, and that’s completely fine. I won’t question your process of arriving to that conclusion.” Kieran paced around the loft, eventually stopping to stare out the window, where a glimpse of the docks skimmed the horizon. He seemed to be considering something before making his way to the desk. Lauren hesitatingly followed him.

“I admire your desire to find the truth, and I’m certain that in due time, you’ll find that every word I’ve said in court is truly what happened...” He rummaged through a drawer, grabbing a file before staring at her intently. “Question is, Lauren, are you willing to potentially make a deal with the Devil to uncover the perpetrator?”

He let the file drop on the wooden surface.

_ A deal with the Devil, huh? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, Waters here! 
> 
> We promised that they'd eventually interact with each other....it only took...what, a third of the entire story to happen? :)) 
> 
> The time spent on this chapter was literally 90% unnecessary research and 10% actual writing. For you curious souls, Kieran's apartment building is somewhat based on the construction of the Bradbury Building in Los Angeles, with some key design changes. Additionally, the name of his firm... (you detectives can figure that one out) 
> 
> We literally have a very very rough blueprint of Kieran's apartment so we could keep track of where everything is. The level of "extra" this is is honestly through the roof. We need help.
> 
> This chapter includes flower language, so here's your flower language decoding for this chapter:
>
>> **Flax flowers:** Domestic love, are a representation of home.  
>  **Cosmos flowers:** Tranquility, peace, innocence, and love  
>  **Amaryllis:** Self-confidence, Pride.  
>  **Eucalyptus leaves:** The leaves have a purifying effect, and negative energies disappear when you burn a Eucalyptus leaf.
> 
> This is one of the longer chapters, so expect the next one to be a tiny bit shorter. There's just so, so much to love about this one! Lauren is literally trying so hard to believe that she wasn't wrong...but at this point, I don't think she believes herself.
> 
> This is probably the first time we've left y'all on a "cliffhanger" of sorts, so :)) 
> 
> Leave a kudos or comment if you'd like, we always love hearing your thoughts!!


	14. Masked Mole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “What is the meaning of this, Mr. White? I thought you didn’t take Family cases, especially not when they had confirmed involvement.” 
>> 
>> “I see you’ve decided to take the path of no return, Ms. Sinclair,” he grinned at her. “As I’m sure you’re aware, you’ve just gone and breached client confidentiality, and you’ve dragged me into it with you. I hope you understand that I will not be allowing this to be admitted in court, as it was not legally obtained.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to the sapfest (which is why we have top notes today)!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Giggle here. When I met Char, I was in a very dark spot in my life. Personal stuff, family problems, the pandemic, and the confinement (tell me it's not terrible for a touch-starved extrovert) made this year living hell for me. I had dropped writing for a while for multiple reasons... 
> 
> But then Purple Hyacinth came along. It didn't miraculously make me feel better, nor did my problems disappear (they're still very real, they are still haunting me), but PH gave me something to expect every Monday, sometimes to obsess about. It gave me a break. And then Char came along. She latched to my arm and dragged me with her to this project for which she had the knowledge and I had the writing experience. _The Moonlighters_ was salvation for me. _The Moonlighters_ is right now a way for me to cope, to express my feelings, something that gave me my motivation to write again. Writing _The Moonlighters_ saved me from spiraling deeper into depression for a simple motive: it gave me something to do. It gave me a constructive way of dealing with my grief. Call me dramatic or sappy for saying PH, _The Moonlighters_ , and Char changed my life, but that is the truth. 
> 
> All of you... Every time you commented, gave kudos, bookmarked the story, gushed about it in DMs or Discord, told us you picked it up and binged it all the way... Guys, you have no idea how happy you made the two of us. Thank you so very much, for 2000 hits and 100 kudos, for your support, for your comments... Thank you for everything <3
> 
> * * *
> 
> Hello everyone! Waters here. Firstly, I'd like to thank all of you for your continuous support of our story!! As Giggle said, we love every single comment, kudos, bookmark, subscription, and view, and we're so glad you guys are enjoying it! Whether you prefer unhinged screaming or literal essays in the comment section and on Discord, THANK YOU. It means so much to us that our little brainchild brightens your day and is intriguing to you.
> 
> Purple Hyacinth fandom is the first, and only, fandom that I've really been part of. Sure, I've been engulfed in other fandoms before. I've read plenty of books, a handful of fanfiction, but there's just something so unique about this community. The simultaneous ability to be absolutely insane and to be insanely introspective and analytical is amazing, and I'm so glad that PH showed up in my life when it did. You guys were the people that inspired me to creatively write for the first time of my life willingly, and this has been one of the most enjoyable projects I've picked up in a while. 
> 
> _The Moonlighters_ , as mentioned at the beginning of this entire journey, was an idea that I had for the longest time. As some of you already know, I'm a psychology and criminal justice double major and plan to go into law, which is the driving force behind the inspiration for this story. I wanted to give readers something that would put a spin on the canon (and hopefully avoid some of the more toxic parts) and also give you guys some new knowledge. Every detail that I could research was meticulously researched by both of us, and special effort was put into making the court scenes engaging and coherent. _The Moonlighters_ is not meant to be a fluff fic. It is not meant to be an angst fic, either. We hope to use this story to tackle different themes in our own life (that we're sure many of you have experienced) and to learn to heal and grow as a person. There will be fluffy moments (as many of you have seen because Giggle is a hopeless romantic and I'm into the dOmEsTiCiTy), and there will most likely be moments that might make your eyes water. Thank you for joining us on this project of self-discovery, and we both hope to continue to see you!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Okay, now that the two authors have gotten their sappy words out, on to Chapter 14!! (There is more to come at the bottom)
> 
> [ **Listen to this chapter's soundtrack!** ](https://youtu.be/ygqI-2gDKpI)

L ukas noticed immediately when Lila walked in that something was wrong.

It was imperceptible to the untrained eye, but if there was one thing Lukas cared enough about to obsess over, it was his wife. He didn’t miss the way her lips weren’t curled in her usual gentle smile, the way her eyes were half-lidded as she tucked her coat away in the foyer, shoulders slightly slumped in contrast to her otherwise perfect posture. Lukas leaned on the threshold to the living room, setting down his coffee as he watched her shake off the chill from outside. Cinnamon and Espresso curled around his feet, waiting for her. She sighed and turned to him, heels and purse hanging off her fingers as her smile brightened a bit for him.

“Hello, dear.”

“You’re tired,” Lukas muttered, tilting his head. “I made dinner, would you like to have it in bed tonight?”

Lila kneaded her eyes. “Yes, that’d be nice. I’ll take a shower first.”

“And _then_ you’ll tell me what’s wrong,” Lukas pressed, making more of a statement than a request.

“And then I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” Lila chuckled. She stood up to kiss his cheek and bent down to scratch the cats’ heads before walking past him to the bedroom door, leaving her husband to stare after her before going back to the kitchen to prepare her dinner. This whole situation with the trial was taking a huge toll on her. He wished, he really wished there was something he could do to help her beyond staying at home and not causing any trouble. Seeing Lila so stressed out worried him, especially since-

“Lukas?” 

He was shaken out of his reverie by Lila’s call from the bathroom. “Yeah, sweetheart?”  
  
“I forgot my towel. Could you grab one for me from the closet? I just washed them yesterday and forgot to replace them”

Lukas set down the plate in his hands, hurrying into the bedroom to retrieve a towel. He knocked on the bathroom door gently, prompting a thin arm to snake out of the tiny crack. 

“Thank you,” she sighed. “I’m not sure what I’d do without you. I’ve been so frazzled lately.”

“Just come on out when you’re ready, I’ll have your dinner ready,” he murmured, walking back to the kitchen.

In a few moments, Lila walked out of the bathroom, nightgown skimming her knees as she ran her hands through her still-damp hair. Usually, the cats were allowed inside the bedroom, but this time she closed the door to keep them outside while she ate and they talked. Lukas was sitting next to the bed, patting her side for her to sit down. 

“You eat, I’ll dry your hair,” he said, tugging Lila down as she giggled slightly. “You better eat everything I gave you. You never eat enough these days.”

Lila nodded, sitting with her back facing him as she scooped pasta into her mouth. Lukas pulled a brush from the bedside table, fidgeting with it as he tried to decide which hand to hold the blowdryer in. 

The couple sat in comfortable silence as the blowdryer whirred. Lila was almost done with her pasta when she finally spoke.

“Lukas?” 

“Yeah?”

“Ms. Sinclair showed up at Kieran’s office today.”

Lukas gave no response as he continued running the brush through Lila’s hair for another minute, seemingly contemplating how to respond.

Just as Lila was about to repeat herself, thinking that Lukas had perhaps been unable to hear her over the blowdryer, he turned it off with a _click_ to rummage through the drawer.

“What did she say? If she was asking for us to take a plea, I’m sure that Kieran–”

“No, she didn’t,” Lila reassured him quickly. Lukas had begun braiding her hair, fingers caught in the strawberry-blonde strands as he held a hair tie in his mouth. “She… Well, the APD, technically, they found a button. It has a Viper crest on it.”

“Great, so now the prosecutor thinks I’m involved with the Vipers–” 

“Actually, I’m not sure she does,” Lila interrupted him, reaching back to feel the braids despite Lukas trying to swat her hands away. “She said she doesn’t _believe_ us necessarily, but she doesn’t _not_ believe anymore, wherever that puts her. Plus, Kieran must’ve talked to her after I left, since I heard something about coffee at his place afterwards.” 

Lukas scoffed. "Coffee? At Kieran's? Does he even _have_ that?"

"You know he does."

"And are you _sure_ he took her there for coffee?"

Lila huffed and turned a little bit to swat his arm, causing Lukas' grin to grow a little wider at her offended pout.

"You talk about him like he’s some sort of degenerate!"

"Come on, he's a single young man, and she's a single young woman. There's nothing wrong if they have a one–"

"Shh!" Lila hissed, cheeks flushed. "They went for work and work only, mind your words! He can be a gentleman if he wants to be, and even at his worst, he’s just like a child."

"Alright, _madame_ ," Lukas chuckled, tying the end of her braid. "All done."

"You get better at this every time, congratulations!" Lila chirped. She leaned back to snuggle into Lukas' chest, tucking her head under his chin and sighing contentedly. "It's nice to be home with you."

Lukas kissed the crown of her head, wrapping his arms around her. "Indeed it is, sweetheart.” 

* * *

Lauren blinked at him. “What do you mean, a deal with the devil? I’m aware that you’re a defense attorney, but while I wouldn’t bring myself to call you a man of high moral character, I wouldn’t go as far as to consider you the _devil_.” 

Kieran smiled sardonically at her. “I’ve grown up _surrounded_ by devils. Aren’t people just products of their environments, Lauren?” He sighed, tossing the file onto the coffee table near the wooden stairs. “And here I was, thinking you _truly_ wanted the truth. Well, I’ll take our mugs back to the kitchen. The offer stands, Ms. Sinclair.” 

Lauren was left standing in the loft alone as she watched Kieran pad down the stairs towards the kitchen, feet barely making a sound. 

_I won’t look, it’s technically confidential. I’d be breaching the ethical code if I-_

Stealing a glance at the file, her concerns flew out the window, joining the leaves that billowed in the brisk autumn air. Stamped in blue-black ink was the Reaper emblem. However, this wasn’t what derailed her ethical deliberation; no, it was the name and photo that were neatly attached to the top left corner with a paperclip.

Lukas Randall’s face was captured in a sepia photo. Judging by his expressions and the aging of the photo, it was taken at least five years ago. The folder, gently worn near the edges, was around two inches thick, and she could see sheets of paper poking out the sides, having shifted when they were dropped onto the table haphazardly. 

_Is he a Reaper? Then could he have still been responsible? There’s no way he’s a double agent; the two families are_ rivals _, and neither of them are loose with their initiation._

Kieran had already ambled up half of the stairs when she noticed him, folder in hand. She couldn’t even remember when she had picked it up, having been so focused on the emblem and photograph.

 _“What_ is the meaning of this, Mr. White? I thought you didn’t take Family cases, especially not when they had confirmed involvement.” 

“I see you’ve decided to take the path of no return, Ms. Sinclair,” he grinned at her. “As I’m sure you’re aware, you’ve just gone and breached client confidentiality, and you’ve dragged me into it with you. I hope you understand that I will _not_ be allowing this to be admitted in court, as it was not _legally_ obtained.”

"You gave this to me."

"I did not," Kieran grinned, pointing to the coffee table. "I simply left out a file in my own house. You did not have a warrant, and you were simply visiting my apartment for coffee. I did not _ask_ you to take it, nor did I volunteer it willingly. You are not an officer, and even if you were, you’d have no reasonable suspicion to search me or my apartment. This folder was not sitting out in public. I do not _reasonably_ expect for people to poke around the belongings I keep in my house, _particularly_ not those with “confidential” stamped across them.”

Lauren had no more patience for his games. Slamming the folder into his chest, she stood toe to toe with him. “Kieran White, I don’t know what you’re intending, and as I said, I don’t really care about Lukas himself. All I want is the _truth_ , and if you get in the way of it-”

“And who said I was planning to stop you, _Lauren_?”

At this point, Lauren had turned a shade of red that matched her scarlet hair. “ _Well_ , I’d suggest that you _explain_ what your intentions are, lest I misunderstand.” 

He huffed, sitting down in one of the loveseats on either side of the coffee table, gesturing for her to sit down in the other. “Well, as you saw, that’s a Reaper emblem stamped right there.” 

“So you’re admitting to me that you’re a Reaper right now?”

“Not exactly, no. The bar association wouldn’t like that.”

“But...you’re associated with them?”

“Unfortunately, I am,” Kieran sighed, leaning back into his seat. “I assure you that I haven’t _‘made my bones’,_ and do not plan to.”

“You’re _associated_ with the _largest, oldest,_ and arguably _most_ powerful Mafia Family in Ardhalis. And your client is as well,” Lauren repeated, blinking as she tried to absorb the news. It sounded less surreal in her head. “Wait, why are you telling me this? Lukas works for the APD; I could literally report him.”

“But you won’t, because you’ll listen to my story and reasoning,” he responded wryly. “Will you not?”

Lauren didn’t respond, electing to stare out the window on her right. The city lights twinkled delicately as if they were giggling at her predicament. Sending a vague gesture in Kieran’s general direction, she positioned herself to hear what he wanted to say. If she knew of this mess already, then she’d at least hear all about it already.

“Well, Lukas and I met when he was barely initiated, which was when that photo was taken. He wasn’t like the other initiates, who were itching to get their hands soaked in blood, which was what I suppose drew me to him. Neither of us wanted to be there.” 

Kieran shifted on his seat, closing his eyes as he recalled his past. “I won’t get into detail about how he ended up in the Reaper’s _loving embrace_ , since that’s his story to tell, but anyhow, we were both under the wing of Mr. I,” he paused, correcting himself. “My apologies, you must know him as Inar Brenner. Mr. Brenner was the Leader and he… liked me.” Lauren wasn’t sure if that was true, seeing that Kieran looked as if he had swallowed a lemon whole. “So I managed to talk him out of training Lukas for _brutal_ work, and almost got him out. Unfortunately, he passed away before I could convince him, which left his daughter in charge. She isn’t as fond of me as Inar was, sadly, but I have a way out as well with her in power, so we negotiated. Lukas had been training to become a mole up until she rose; he didn’t want to stay, never did, and I don’t blame him, but as my best friend he stayed, for me and me alone,” his gaze hardened, set on her, and Lauren knew this was something he wanted her to understand clearly and above all. “Do you understand? Lukas had the chance to leave because I got him that chance, and he stayed for me until I got to leave.”

“What do you mean, you _get_ to leave? You said you were associated with the Reapers, not one of the members. Couldn’t you leave at any time?” 

Kieran smiled sadly. “It’s not that easy, I’m afraid. I can’t leave without _permission_ from Ms. J, who you know as Ms. Jovie Brenner. She took the lead after her father died, and she’s no less driven by success. Lukas only responds to me, but since I have _obligations_ with the family, he’s unofficially a Reaper mole that we put into the APD to combat the Vipers that have already infiltrated the precinct.” 

“And, pray tell, what does _that_ entail? Destroying evidence? Turning a blind eye to criminals?” 

“Goodness, you’ve _got_ to stop seeing Lukas that way,” he chuckled. “No, nothing of that sort. Though Ms. J _is_ keen on succeeding, she also knows that if she involved Lukas in anything illegal, she would be losing a valuable weapon in her arsenal. After all, that’s all I am to her. A pet that she calls upon when she has legal problems that are grey enough to be dealt with legally rather than with...older methods.”

“So what _does_ he do?” 

“Well, he mostly is what you might consider a sleeper agent. A large majority of the time, he’s like any other officer. He risks his life every day on patrol, he goes through paperwork, all of the duties that come from being a regular police officer. Ms. J mentioned before that she has another mole in the works, who’s involved with more… Suspicious activities, we presume. Anyhow, on occasion, Lukas is tasked with derailing Viper plans if the other agent reports anything that they are unable to deal with themselves. Most of the time, it’s destroying coded paperwork, hiding files, responsibilities of that sort. Oh, and of course, the constant reports. Absolutely not the image of the corrupt officer you’ve likely built in your mind, I assure you.” 

Twirling a strand of his hair, which was now completely loose, he continued. “I’m sure you can tell that I’m not trying to fool you, Lauren.” 

Lauren dropped her face into her palms; she hadn’t expected _this_ out of the evening. “What exactly do you want me to do with this...confidential information, Mr. White? You already made it clear that you didn’t want this in court, and with where this case is going so far, I can’t drop the case in good faith. The evidence all points at Mr. Randall, so if you’d like a directed verdict, you’re going to have to do more than talk to me.”

“You have faith in me to find evidence that adds enough doubt to disprove your case, Ms. Sinclair? I’ve got three days, and who’s to say that you won’t just accuse me of buying a fake witness?” 

“Would you, Mr. White?”

“I won’t, never have, and never will,” Kieran grinned. “I don’t like to stain my hands any more than they already are.”

“Then what–” Lauren groaned, throwing her hand up. “ _What_ do you expect me to do with this information, Mr. White? What are your intentions?”

Kieran stood up, startling Lauren, and approached her. Lauren leaned back in her chair, but soon realized there was nothing menacing about him; instead, he was all seriousness and sheer determination. Hovering over her as her back pressed against the loveseat, Kieran tipped his head down to stare directly into her eyes.

“What I want is pretty simple, Ms. Sinclair,” he hissed. “I want to save someone who is like a brother to me. I want to save Lukas Randall from being stripped of his freedom for a crime he did not commit. I want to save my only family, because Lukas, his wife, and even his _cats_ are the only thing… the _closest_ _thing_ I’ve had to a family. I was ready to sell my soul to the devil for him once, and you can be sure as hell I would do it again anytime.

“You wanted the truth, Ms. Sinclair?” Kieran gestured to the file sitting innocently on the coffee table. “This is the truth. A Viper murdered Captain Hugues Hermann, and Lukas Randall is certainly not a Viper. I don’t know who murdered Hermann. I don’t _care_ who did, to be honest, it’s not my problem. I just want to help someone who offered me a _taste_ of what it meant to be loved.

“You can either pretend that you’ve never heard a word I said tonight, and proceed to fulfill your role as prosecutor without any shred of doubt, or you can actually act on your _morals_ and take this into consideration. I _will_ find a witness, or another form of evidence by Monday _legally_ , and I expect you to not put up a ridiculous fight about me being a corrupt attorney because I’m _not._ I solemnly swear that if I _cannot_ find evidence in my favor legally, I will not present anything at all. Is that fair?”

Lauren swallowed, nodding slowly. “Great, sure. I get your point. As long as you obtain that evidence _legally,_ I’d be more than happy to take it into consideration. After all, I’m not unreasonable, and if I believe that there isn’t evidence beyond a reasonable doubt that a person is innocent, I won’t put them in prison _just_ to win a case.” 

She stood readily, extending a hand towards him. “I anticipate seeing your usual prowess in the courtroom on Monday, Mr. White. For once, I’m asking to be proven wrong. However, I won’t make it easy,” she grinned at him. “We both have a reputation to maintain.” 

“I wasn’t expecting anything less, Ms. Sinclair,” Kieran winked at her. “What would be the fun in that?”

Lauren shook her head, releasing his hand as she walked around him towards the staircase. “I shall take my leave, then.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

“I can find the exit myself, Kieran,” she cocked an eyebrow to him, to which he laughed.

“I am sure you can, but humor me.”

“Sure,” she scoffed, picking up her purse, not bothering to stop and wait for him. “Is this what you do, _Beyond_? Lure innocent little prosecutors into your apartment, serve them coffee, and talk them out of pressing charges?”

A genuine, rich laugh resonated behind her. It made her think of church bells. “No, only for you, darling.” 

Kieran held the door open for her as she pulled on her boots. “Well, I suppose that you’ll find your way out of this lovely building of ours. I better get working if I want to have something impactful ready by Monday, so I’ll bid you goodnight here.”

She gifted him a small smile as she tucked her hair back into her hat. “What, you won’t insist on walking me to my doorstep?” 

“Would you allow me to do so?” Kieran followed through on his act, making as if to grab his coat and a pair of boots. 

“No.” 

Brushing his hair away from his shoulders, he walked her to the platform to wait for the elevator in his slippers. “That’s what I thought you might say, I would definitely have offered otherwise **.** ”

As she watched him walk back into his apartment through the glass doors of the elevator, she was hit with a jarring realization: _he wasn’t lying about walking me to my doorstep._

* * *

Kieran collapsed onto his bed, having showered and changed into his pajamas. He honestly couldn’t believe that Lauren Sinclair, this fiery prosecutor that used to be hell-bent on sending his _only_ family to prison, was the first person other than Lukas and Lila to step foot into his apartment. He didn’t even allow the building’s cleaning service in. He did all the chores in the apartment himself and never held any gatherings at his place. Not even Jovie had ever been here.

Kieran chuckled to himself. “Truly only for _you_ , darling.”

He sat up on the bed, scooting closer to the edge to grab the phone from its stand. Tugging the receiver to his ear, Kieran dialed quickly without minding the time.

After a few rings, they picked up.

“Who _the fuck_ is calling–”

“It’s White.”

“Ah.” Kieran almost laughed at how abruptly the man stopped his insults, instead releasing an exasperated groan. “What is it? What do you need?”

“I need you to find me a witness, for the next hearing. I need it as soon as possible.”

“Another one? The old man was a piece of cake to find, pretty boy, but you know, it’s not _always_ that simple. You know, I’ve always got to ask you, will you _please_ consider just-”

“Sake, shut up,” Kieran snapped at him, “for the last time, you _know_ that I hate when you ‘find’ fakes. I can’t stop you from doing them for other people, but please, you know I don’t take those.” 

“Fine,” the man groaned from the other end of the line. “You know the prices, if you want a real one–”

“Cut the dramatics, Sake. You know I’ve never skimped on any of your services so long as you actually perform them.” 

“You better not start now,” Tim laughed emptily. “When do you need this witness by, again?” 

“Not ‘again’, I never told you. I just said to get them as soon as possible, but definitely before the hearing on Monday. The judge won’t like me adding a witness out of nowhere, but I’m sure the prosecutor won’t put up too big of a fight.” 

A cackle rang in Kieran’s ears. “You finally put those charms to use? You were always the best-looking one out of all of us-”

“No, _Timmy_ ,” Kieran sneered. “Unlike you, I use _reason_ to convince people. But I suppose you’ve got to find other ways of going about things when you’re… _lacking_ in the looks department.” 

“Don’t get smart with me, White. It’s just business, and I don’t recall getting paid for your insults.” 

“Fine. You know what to do,” Kieran huffed. “Thanks, as always. And next time you pick up a call from me, send the girl you have next to you out of the room. It’s technically confidential information.” 

“How did you-”

“ _Good night_ , Mr. Sake.” 

Kieran set the receiver down in its cradle, rubbing his eyes. He _hated_ asking Sake for anything, but he had to admit that the man was effective. The only reason Jovie had yet to finish the man off for his multiple slip-ups and messes was Kieran’s constant protection and reminders that Sake was an asset for him. The idiot probably wouldn’t last long once Kieran left the Reapers for good.

_If Lukas put up with being in a Mafia Family for me, the least I could do is play nice with an insolent scarred man._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, you can all start screaming at us now, we've got our barricade ready.
> 
> In case it wasn't clear enough: Lukas is an unofficial Reaper Mole that works _solely_ under Kieran. Something like an informant, one could say. Nor Jovie nor none of the other Reapers have any control over him, and Jovie cannot so much as touch a hair in Lukas' head without repercussions from Kieran (what _that_ means, however, you'll find out later). As Jovie herself said before, if Lukas doesn't step out of the line, she can't do a single thing to him. So don't worry about our dear Grumpy Cat, he's safe.
> 
> Now, look at the summary. Remember what the term "moonlighter" means? Now you know. But wait, the title is a plural... *wink wonk*
> 
> WOW THAT WAS WILD! We are so excited to hear your screams and theories and thoughts and _whatever_ you all have for us, we're eager to know.
> 
>  **NOW WE HAVE SOMETHING FUN FOR YOU**  
>  To thank you all for 2000+ hits and 100+ kudos, we'd like to give a little something to you. Despite what you guys have said about our well-thought-out prose and the realistic settings and interactions, our planning documents are basically crack fics in of themselves. For us, seeing the process makes things more understandable and also inspires us to create different things ourselves, so we're hosting an itty bitty mini event! If you'd like, in addition to your regular thoughts, we'd like to invite you to tell us your favorite chapter! In response, we'll show you pieces of our planning documents (and you can laugh at our stupidity) that correlate to that chapter!


	15. Opportune Observer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Yes, my apologies for that, but I wanted to tell you before the court sent word. Consider it an expression of my thanks for showing me that picture personally. I found the witness.”
>> 
>> Lauren almost fell off the chair. “You _what_?”  
> 

H onestly, Tim Sake didn’t know _why_ he worked for Kieran White.

It was well-understood that the Sake family didn’t align itself politically with any individual Family; it was all business, and despite living under the same roof, cases were never discussed with any of the other investigators. Though his family had a longtime trade as the unofficial “freelance investigators” for the most dangerous crime families of Ardhalis, Tim Sake had somehow become almost solely employed under the Reaper family. 

If it weren’t for the money, he really wouldn’t be sitting on an uncomfortable metal bar stool at one o'clock in the morning. Kieran White paid more than anyone else due to his ludicrous demands about _only_ using real witnesses, but it also meant that his cases required actual attention to detail and bargaining. 

“And what can I get you, sir?” 

Sake turned to look at the bartender, who was leaning against the marble countertop. “A Boulevardier, please.” 

He wasn’t planning to have another drink tonight. Ever since receiving Kieran’s call on Friday night, he’d already mapped out all the bars that were open on the night of the 26th. A little prodding had gotten a couple of his Viper contacts to point out where their usual meeting spots were, but unfortunately, he was still left with fifteen different meeting spots. Despite the unreliability of an intoxicated witness, it was worth a shot. He _really_ didn’t want to have to spend all of his Sunday knocking on the doors of all the other shops, cafes, and cigar lounges.

Generally, Vipers, being prone to making hasty decisions, chose to meet near their target’s assigned hit locations. It made for easy scouting and a smoother change of plans if there were potential witnesses. However, unless they could make sure _nobody_ within a kilometer’s radius was awake, Sake was convinced that someone would know something. 

Unfortunately, despite meeting in public places, the Vipers weren’t completely _stupid,_ either. Like any other person moving in the shadows of society, they knew how to hide among the crowds or avoid unnecessary trouble. Most of the bars and taverns they assigned and reported hits in were exclusive or required prior reservations, and despite being the most qualified investigator in the business, he had to pull a few strings to even get admitted to many of them. Once inside, he found that he had around an hour and a half to subtly ask all the staff members questions before getting unceremoniously kicked out for not ordering more than one drink. 

Staring down at the golden coaster, he traced his fingers along the faint clover-shaped embossing. The Golden Clover was one of the last bars on his list, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, despite not finishing any of the 13 drinks he’d ordered. The alcohol would get to him any moment now. 

“Slow night, huh?” he asked the bartender easily. If there was one person he was _sure_ would be totally sober in a bar, was the bartender.

“Well, it’s a Sunday,” the woman responded, shining a glass with a dishtowel. “Most people leave by two, either because they go to church in a few hours or just because they want to catch up on sleep before work starts again tomorrow.” 

Sake spun the glass around in his right hand, admiring the way the light refracted through the beveled edges. “Do you always work on weekends…” He stared at her pointedly, wordlessly asking for her name. 

“Eleanor,” she responded quickly, brushing her shiny black bangs out of her eyes. “And before you ask, I’m not interested–”

Sake nearly spat out his drink in surprise. “No, Eleanor, I’m not trying to ask you out. I’m genuinely curious if you work on weekends, that’s all. Most young people would rather spend weekends partying than working.” 

Eleanor eyed him skeptically but replied nonetheless. She was probably used to entertaining tipsy patrons, which was the role he had decided to take to keep up the conversation. “Well, I’m trying to put myself through university, so yeah, I have to work weekends. The manager pays more since, as you said, most people don’t like those shifts.”

“I see,” he responded. The girl spun away from him briefly, taking another customer's order before returning to finish drying off the rest of the glasses. “Hey, how long have you worked here? This–” he gestured at his drink briefly. "–is one of the best I’ve had so far.” 

Eleanor’s features softened with pride. “Thanks, you ordered something that I actually like making. Most people order the stupid ‘shining leaf’, expensive wine, or something instead of a proper drink. And yeah, I’ve been working here for… Almost a year? I started when I got my internship.” 

“An internship? I heard those are pretty hard to get,” Sake noted, sipping slowly. “What’s it for?” 

“I’m a psychology major, so I help file cases and stuff for a professor. I’m minoring in technology… I’d like to someday have an automatic filing system where it’s easier to search for a client’s information without having to dig through the cabinets.” 

“Oh, that’s quite interesting, good luck with that.” Sake set down his glass, halfway finished already. “Hey, I have a friend who’s a psychologist,” he lied easily, already used to the falsities rolling off his tongue. _Technically, I_ could _have a psychologist friend... They just don't know that I exist._ “Do you also do the thing where you watch people and examine them?” 

The woman’s laugh reminded him of tinkling bells, which honestly came as a shock, considering her no-nonsense appearance. “Well, I mean, as a bartender, I _do_ see a lot of _interesting_ characters come and go. It’s always amusing to see someone come in, completely put together, and leave looking and acting like a different person."

_Gotcha._

“I see a fair share of shocking individuals myself. Say, what’s the most memorably dressed person you’ve seen so far? I heard that some… _Eccentric businesspeople_ visit the Clover regularly.”

Fixing up a drink someone had asked for on the other side of the bar, she mused his question before chuckling to herself. “So there was this one woman shortly ago, I could swear she had a live bird in her hat.”

“Really?”

“Really! Someone dressed like that doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Those people, coming in with outfits that could probably buy a house as if there aren’t literal criminals on the streets outside. Just three weeks ago, the 11th’s Captain was murdered in his own office! Have you heard?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve read that in the newspapers recently. I’ve been following the case, or kind of, since… Well, you’re going to think I’m hallucinating, nevermind. Can I get you something else to drink, by the way?” 

In just an instant, Sake went from “slightly tipsy” to “completely aware”. _Is this the last bar I’ll have to visit tonight?_ Hoping that it was and not wanting to get kicked out _again_ , he obliged.

“Sure, I’ll have whatever you make; I don’t have a preference,” he grinned at her, lacing his fingers in front of him. “And no, please, I’m interested. I promise I won’t mock you for it. After all, I wouldn’t want to anger the person who could give me alcohol poisoning.”

Eleanor snorted, rolling the sleeves of her uniform up as she rinsed the cobbler shaker. “Well, sure. Nobody else is here to hear me anyway, so I might as well,” then, more to herself, she muttered as she examined the many bottles of liquor: “You’ll probably forget about it by tomorrow morning, anyway.”

Tim pretended he didn’t hear her. She went silent for a few moments, completely focused as she scooped ice into the shaker. “I worked the shift that night, too. The girl who was supposed to work that day had fallen sick, so I had to fill in her spot. Two people came in, _and I…”_

As he listened, Sake inconspicuously reached into his briefcase to turn on the voice recorder. 

_This better be the witness we’re looking for. I don’t think I’ll stay sober enough for one more bar._

* * *

Tristan had informed her that morning that he’d invited March over for dinner that night to make up for the fact that he wasn’t at the Manor for the last visit. Uncle and niece held a friendly relationship with Oliver March, something that reached back to thirteen years ago and had only strengthened as Lauren grew up. March was practically part of the family by the time she was admitted to university. However, Tristan was unaware of March’s side-gig as Lauren’s informant. Or perhaps he knew. He appeared to know everything going on in the world, particularly in Lauren’s life, but he at least _pretended_ to not notice how Oliver and Lauren appeared to have a secret of their own.

Lauren stumbled into the Manor mere minutes before when Tristan told her March would arrive. Throwing a quick glance into the living room to confirm March had yet to arrive, she bolted across the dining room towards the staircase. On the way, she shook off the coat and brushed away the snow caught on her hair. Of all days, it _had_ to snow when she was trying to get home on time. She threw the door of her bedroom open and almost screamed at the sight of Lucy, meticulously ironing a dress that hung from one of the bedposts. The maid yelped and turned around at the slam of the door.

Lauren sighed in relief. “Good evening, Lucy. You picked out a dress for me?”

“Good evening, my sweet,” Lucy chuckled, taking Lauren’s things from her arms as Lauren hastily took off her office clothing. “I guessed you wouldn’t be home early for dinner with Mr. March, so I took the liberty of getting your clothes ready.”

“Lucy, you truly are a blessing.” Lauren snatched the dress from its place in the post. Lucy had chosen a warm turtleneck dress of a nice plum color with no sleeves, the skirt falling loosely, barely skimming her knees. While Lucy zipped the dress, Lauren kicked off her heels and exchanged them for the flats next to the bed. Quickly glancing towards the mirror to fix the flyaways poking out of her bun, she touched up her lip gloss before finally falling to the bed with a huff. 

“Finally,” she sighed, slowly sitting up again. “It’s definitely much more comfortable than what I have to wear for work.”

“I am here to serve,” Lucy giggled. “But now you better go downstairs, Mr. March should arrive any time now.”

Lauren pecked Lucy’s cheek before dashing downstairs, going twice the speed she normally did due to the lack of precarious heels. She noted that the table had already been set by the maids as she moved towards the living room, where Tristan sat waiting, book in hand. He raised his head at the sound of her steps, smiling gently at her as he tucked a ribbon into the pages before closing the book.

“Have I ever told you how much you look like your mother?”

Lauren smiled back, sitting on the couch nearest to Tristan’s armchair. “Multiple times, Uncle.”

“But Rachel had softer features,” Tristan caressed her chin, lifting her face so he could see her clearly. He tucked a loose strand of hair that had come undone as she flew down the staircase back behind her ear. “But your hair, you got it from your father. And your eyes, they are your mother’s… But somehow, they both look brighter on you. Like they were ignited and burst into flames.”

Lauen laughed softly, her eyes wavering. “You miss them a lot, don’t you, Uncle Tristan?”

Tristan smiled sadly. “Every day. Just like you do, dear.”

“I miss them. Truly, I do.”

Tristan took her hand in both his hands, his smile brightening a little bit at her. “But we have each other, at least. Isn’t that better than nothing?”

“It is,” Lauren giggled, dabbing the tears out of the corners of her eyes. “We have each other.”

A knock on the door interrupted them, and they turned at the same time to see Yuzi hurry to open it and bow to the newcomer. Elise joined her and took March’s coat and hat, hanging them diligently as Yuzi guided March to the living room, curtseying respectfully before Lauren and Tristan.

“Master Sinclair, Lady Lauren. Mr. Oliver March has arrived.”

“Thank you very much, Yuzi, you are excused.”

At Tristan’s words, Yuzi left towards the kitchen, informing the trio that dinner would be announced briefly. Lucy walked into the living room, inclining her head slightly as she placed a tray with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses on the coffee table before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“They seem well-acquainted with your preferences,” March commented, accepting the glass that Tristan offered him.

“They are all good people, and they’ve dedicated years, and some, their whole lives to this house. Whiskey, dear?”

“Please.” Lauren took the glass from his hands, the two cubes of ice clinking against the ornate crystal. “You _cannot_ imagine the week I’ve had.”

“Is Randall’s case giving you that hard of a time, Lauren?” March asked, leaning back.

“It’s certainly not simple.”

“Oh, that’s right, you _are_ in charge of the investigation,” Tristan perked up, a little grin parting his face. “Have you been playing favorites, Oliver?”

“No, of course not, Tristan.” Lauren had to bite back laughter. “I am a professional.”

Tristan did not seem very convinced, but he grinned cordially either way. “I am aware.”

In a very obvious attempt of diverting attention from himself, March turned to Lauren again. “I am curious, Lauren, how _is_ it going? I believe Riverhood and Marquez testified a few days ago, but I couldn’t be there for it,” he lifted both hands in a display of innocence. “It’s nothing against you, but I am quite interested in how Lukas is doing.”

“It’s alright, March,” Lauren sighed. “To be honest, their testimony… Shook things up a little, you could say. Were you aware that Mr. Randall was found with the vial in his right hand?”

“I was.”

“And that Mr. Randall is right-handed?”

March nodded slowly. “I am aware, it’s all on his information.”

“Alright, so what Mr. White said–” Lauren leaned back, taking a sip of her drink before continuing. “–Is that since Randall is right-handed, it’d make no sense for him to hold the vial with that hand since it’d mean he’d have to use the syringe with his left hand. Obviously, a difficult task for a right-handed person.”

“Brilliant,” Tristan muttered.

“Unnerving, rather,” Lauren threw her hands up. “ _How_ did he see that when not even the detectives seemed to catch it? No offense, March.”

“None taken,” March was glaring at the carpet under the table, seemingly lost in thought. “I was not the first Detective to arrive at the scene, and the vial was already packaged by the time I got there.”

Lauren blinked twice at him. “You didn’t know of this?”

“I didn’t. How could’ve my team missed something so crucial?”

“Perhaps they didn’t consider it important?” Tristan suggested, changing the hand he was holding his glass in to demonstrate. “People tend to switch hands when they’re holding something, it’s not something that’s necessarily out of the question.”

“Every single detail is important in investigation,” March explained. “However trivial it may seem, it can be the clue to solving a crime. In this case, proving Lukas’ innocence.”

“The jury seemed convinced,” Lauren sighed. “And I had nothing to say against that logic. It even caught Ms. Riverhood by surprise.”

“I’m sure that was a silver lining for Lukas and Lila,” March smiled fondly, leaning back on his seat. “Amidst so much bad news, I imagine they would be relieved to hear that.”

“You’d have to ask Mr. White,” Lauren laughed. “But I guess so, yes.”

The conversation diverted to lighter topics until they were called to the table by Lucy. They took their seats with Tristan at the head of the table, as always, Lauren to his right, and March in front of her, and laughed as the maids brought in their food. Tristan and March had chosen to entertain themselves by recalling Lauren’s failed dates when March, the filthy traitor, had asked her if she was interested in dating after years of avoiding it like one would avoid street rats. All she could do was chuckle awkwardly to hide her embarrassment as the two men discussed the last time she had gone on a date and had promptly “dropped” her champagne in some spoiled guy’s face. She guessed it was only fair. Tristan was forced to diffuse the aftermath of the rejection of each high-class bachelor.

She wondered how they were still respected among the upper-class and nobility of Ardhalis; she’d expected to be shunned for her reputation of being what most people called a “spitfire”.

“Oh, dear, Lauren, don’t make that face,” Tristan laughed, patting her hand in a meek attempt of comfort. “You have to admit they _are_ funny. We are laughing at the unfortunate lads, they don’t know what they’ve lost.”

“You’re a remarkable young lady, and any man would be lucky to have you as a partner.”

“Thank you, March. Unfortunately, most men nowadays expect a wife to be more a servant and a baby factory than a _partner_ ,” Lauren snarled. “And I’m afraid I have no interest in men like that.”

“Understandable,” Tristan chuckled.

“Are you not interested in having children, Lauren?” asked March.

“Oh, maybe in the future, someday. Not right now.”

They were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. All three of them turned simultaneously to stare at the little contraption perched on the side table as Lucy rushed towards it.

“Good evening, this is the Sinclair Manor, how may I help you?”

A beat of silence passed before Lucy looked up, directly at Lauren, tipping the phone towards her while covering the mouthpiece.

“It’s for you, Lady Lauren.”

Lauren frowned at it, excusing herself from her uncle and March before striding towards the phone, thanking Lucy in a hushed breath as she tucked the phone between her ear and her shoulder. “Lauren Sinclair speaking.”

“ _Lady Lauren_ , huh?”

Lauren’s eyes widened. Dropping her voice to a dangerous whisper, she replied: “How did you get my home number?”

“Well, you see, there’s this thing called a phone book, which I happen to own.”

“Asshat,” Lauren hissed, to which Kieran laughed. “I have visitors over. I’ll take the call in my office, hold up.”

“As you wish, darling.”

She dropped the phone unceremoniously back to its stand, taking a deep breath and mustering up all the cordiality she could before turning to the table.

“I’m sorry, it’s from work. Do you mind if I take this upstairs? It won’t take long.”

“Go ahead, dear.”

Giving her uncle and March a quick bow, Lauren rushed upstairs, cursing Kieran White with each step for thinking it was such a great idea to call at this very moment. It wasn’t like he could’ve known. She couldn’t tell him, either, that the Detective who was in charge of the case that had sparked their current rivalry was having dinner in her home; that would be giving him material to make trouble in front of Adila. The only place she could go so that neither side discovered the other’s presence was her office, which was a pity. Lucy had made a delicious tart for dessert, and she didn’t know _what_ she’d do if Kieran got in the way of it. 

She had barely walked through the door when the phone rang again. She slammed the door closed with her foot and bolted towards it.

“You didn’t tell me how long to wait before calling you.”

“I know–”

“And you don’t have my home number.”

“Well, you see, there’s this thing called a phone book, which I _also_ happen to own.”

Kieran laughed, bright and genuine, from the other end of the line. “Alright, I deserved it.”

“Sure you did,” Lauren huffed, finally taking a seat behind the desk, the wire curling around her fingers. “So, what is it? Why did you call? I don’t have much time, as I told you, I have visitors over.”

“Yes, my apologies for that, but I wanted to tell you before the court sent word. Consider it an expression of my thanks for showing me that picture personally. I found the witness.”

Lauren almost fell off the chair. “You _what_?”

“I found a witness,” he repeated, the smirk too evident in his tone. “A bartender, would you believe that? Her name is Eleanor. She works at a bar near the APD of the 11th, was on shift on the night of Hermann’s murder, and… Oh, she heard some _interesting_ things. Once you hear her testimony, you will have no doubt Lukas is innocent, and there is no way Adila _or_ the jury can believe that he’s guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”

“For the well-being of your client, I sure hope so, Kieran,” Lauren huffed, allowing her lips to curl into a little grin. The lack of lies in his tone increased her curiosity, but she’d rather save that for the hearing. “But do warn her. I will not go easy on her.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” Kieran laughed. “That’d be all on my side, do you have anything interesting to tell me, Lauren?”

“I don’t, Kieran,” she chuckled. “I have to get back to my dinner. See you on Monday.”

“Oh, yes, do go ahead, _Lady Lauren_ ,” he jested. “See you on Monday.”

Shaking her head, Lauren set the phone back to its stand, taking a few seconds to consider the call. She was grateful he had called to warn her about the new witness, especially so soon. As “an expression of his thanks”, he’d said, but he had called even when she would be informed by the DA by morning, even going out of his way to find her home number in the phone book. After their encounter the previous night, she wasn’t quite sure where they stood. She hadn’t expected to uncover not one, but _two_ Reapers. No, not Reapers. Associates? Informal members? Kieran hadn’t disclosed enough information to give his and Lukas’ position a name. He also got her trapped in a position where she could do nothing about said information, even if she wanted to.

“Damn you, Kieran White,” Lauren hissed, leaving her chair and heading back to the dining room.

* * *

Tristan and March watched Lauren disappear hurriedly upstairs, muttering something to herself. Once she vanished from sight, both men turned to each other and stared, seemingly trying to find the words to express whatever it was they wanted to say. Ever one who had his way with words, Tristan was the first to find them.

“I found out you came over a few days ago, Oliver.”

March hid the lump on his throat behind a piece of steak.

“Yes, I came to give Lauren a quick visit.”

“Really? That’s quite nice of you. What was the occasion?”

March swallowed the lump with his steak, letting the cutlery rest against the edge of the porcelain plate. Mustering up his courage for the conversation to follow, he wiped the corners of his mouth and, seemingly taking the hint, the maid who had been serving earlier abandoned the vicinity

“I know what you’re doing, Oliver,” Tristan sighed. “I understand that you feel… _guilty_ , to some extent, for what happened with Alexander and Rachel’s investigation–”

“It was my–”

“No, Oliver, it was _not_ your fault the investigation was closed,” Tristan dropped his cutlery as well in favor of gesturing with his hands. “It was one of the first big cases you led; you were not much older than Lauren currently is. It wasn’t your fault. I know you’ve been giving Lauren leads about the investigations of her cases for years –I’m not _blind–_ and in the end, it’s not like you’re doing something illegal so I never said anything. But I know you also bring Lauren Viper-related evidence. She’s already involving herself in Randall’s case more than she should, but I don’t want her to dive in too deep.”

“Lauren never had closure on her parents’ death,” March stated. “I promised a twelve years old girl I’d find the person who killed her parents and never did. I owe her this much, at least, to help her find closure herself.”

“There are things she’s better off not knowing, Oliver.”

“You’ve never explained to me what you mean by that.”

“Ignorance is bliss, my friend,” Tristan sighed, picking his cup of wine and taking a long sip. “I swore to my brother’s grave that I would protect Lauren no matter the cost, and I plan to do just that. She’s already lost enough. I do not want her to go through any more pain.”

“Seeking answers doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll get hurt. Sometimes we have to find the truth to heal.”

“Then you do not know Lauren’s nature,” Tristan shook his head. “There are no limits for her. For her, there’s a good and there’s a bad, and she is not afraid to navigate both, not caring if there’s also a middle. I do not want her to drown herself in the bad.”

“I care about Lauren too, Tristan,” March countered, slightly hurt. “I would never let her drown.”

Tristan stared at March for a few seconds, twirling the wine cup between his fingers as if pondering something. They both caught on the footsteps approaching the staircase, and wordlessly went back to eating to mask their argument and pretend in front of the fiery, young woman that it never happened. As she approached the table, Tristan whispered one last phrase for only March to catch:

“I really hope you won’t.”

* * *

It was too bright of a day for such a gruesome event to happen.

The Sinclair Estate was a beautiful place of ivory pillars and flowers, a place where the light reached every corner, cleansing everything it touched. It was always fresh, never too cold and never too warm. It was most definitely a place for the rich and happy, and the Sinclairs were both. Not many people in the family remained in Ardhalis Main, but at the Estate, anyone was welcomed into its spacious foyer, where a young girl’s tinkling laughter could almost always be heard.

On the afternoon of March 14th, XX18, the young and lone heiress of the Sinclair fortune had left to play with her friends in Nightingale Park. She had been in the company of Carlise (her nanny), Dylan Rosenthal (her best friend), and young Master William Hawkes (her other best friend) when her life changed irrevocably.

The image of the girl coming home in her yellow dress, smile wide and scarlet hair glinting in the sunlight, would forever be seared into Oliver March’s mind. He had never met the girl, but since one glance at her parents could explain her identity, he had ran from the office window to warn the only one of her relatives he knew. Tristan Sinclair had taken a seat in the hall outside of the office, butlers offering him water or chamomile tea to calm his quivering hands between trips to comfort the terrified maids downstairs. March ran towards him, shoving everyone else aside. 

“Mr. Sinclair! Mr. Sinclair! Your niece is arriving!”

At this holler, the man had stood up on unsteady legs, wiping his glazed eyes as he ran downstairs to meet the girl. Upon arriving in the foyer, Tristan was instructing the crowd of observers and officers to part so he could reach the little girl who, panicked, spun as her eyes drifted over each one of the unfamiliar faces that stared down at her in concern.

“Uncle!” she shrieked, reaching for him. Tristan hoisted her up in his arms and hugged her tightly, hurrying back towards the house.

Oliver March would always remember the tears that dropped into auburn hair and the shaky whispers as Tristan calmed Lauren and comforted her. The crowd outside had quieted suddenly to not disturb the moment, a portrait of sorrow and loss.

“You will need to be strong, little Ren,” Tristan whispered, tightening the lump in March’s throat. The girl lifted her head from Tristan’s chest to look at him in the face, reaching to dry the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. Then, she had glanced towards the door where March stood, and he would truly _never_ forget the golden glow of her eyes dimming ever so slightly when Tristan whispered: “Mommy and daddy are gone, sweetheart. They are resting now.”

She was just a child, knowing but not quite grasping what death was. But her face still contorted in realization, eyes once again watering as she shook herself free from Tristan’s protective grasp. Catching him off guard, she had made a wild dash for the door, hollering for her parents. She was able to dodge many of the officers trying to stop her, but March had lunged in front of the door, halting her in her tracks at the last moment.

The crown of daisies had fallen off her head, bruised and torn on the floor amidst the chaos.

“Let me go! Where are mom and dad? _Let me through!_ ”

March held her firmly, anchoring her as he placed both hands on her shoulders. He crouched in front of her grimly, watching as the screams turned into hiccups and eventually into rivers that streamed down her pale cheeks. March gestured subtly at the officer approaching him from behind them as he offered her his handkerchief.

“Shh, it’ll be alright, little one.” March wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumb. “It’s alright. You must be Lauren, yes?”

Still crying, Lauren nodded, burying her face among the embroidered gladioli.

“Alright, Lauren. My name is Oliver March. I am here to help you and your family, alright?”

“Are you the detective, Mr. March?” Lauren hiccuped, her voice cracking multiple times as she struggled to get out the question.

March smiled at her, nodding. “Yes, that’s right, you’re very smart. I am the detective.”

“What happened to my parents?”

March was not a stranger to death: he had seen far too many of them. He was also not a stranger to the hopeful eyes of distraught relatives, so he simply rubbed her shoulders to comfort her as he whispered:

“I will find out for you, alright? I promise I will.”

And perhaps that was his mistake: promising. 

Perhaps, had he not promised a little girl he’d find out what happened to her parents, she would not have hugged him so tightly, wailing in his arms, and his heart wouldn’t have split so cleanly down the middle as she sobbed. Perhaps he wouldn't have felt responsible for giving her answers he didn’t have. Maybe he could’ve turned away and left the encounter unscathed as Tristan picked her up again and gave her to Carlise, instructing to take her to the Sinclair Manor, where Lucy was waiting, and to call William and Dylan over to keep her company until he could leave. 

Alexander and Rachel Sinclair were assassinated in their office and had died by batrachotoxin poisoning, as the newspapers would report unflinchingly the day after. They had put up a fight against the assassin, as demonstrated by the state of the room where the maid had found them, but it had evidently been in vain. There were no doubts that the Viper Family was responsible; however, nobody could figure out why. Maybe for being rich, maybe for refusing to ally themselves with one of the most infamous crime Families in Ardhalis, but those were all theories. He had no answers for the orphaned girl in the yellow dress.

The girl who survived miraculously, everyone said. The girl who wasn’t killed because she wasn’t home.

The murder happened in broad daylight, in spring, and no one noticed it. There were no traces, no evidence, no witnesses. There was only the carving in the desk the murderer had left behind as a message: the Viper Crest. A message to who, they didn’t know either.

And Oliver March would always, _always_ regret, for the thirteen years that followed and all the years that would come after that, that he never found out who did it for the girl of the crushed daisies.

For the unlucky ones aren’t the ones who are taken away. Perhaps the unluckiest ones are those left behind, forever reaching out for the silhouettes that never return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, friends! It's Waters, and welcome back!!! Firstly, we'd like too let you know that we are still working hard on writing. We'll see if we can update on Wednesday (no promises), but we will DEFINITELY see you once again next Saturday!
> 
> We are actually using the Google Calendar that we created to plot out all the dates of the plot points... I'd be so confused otherwise :)) Sometimes even _we_ get the dates mixed up and have to start making wild math.
> 
> So there you go, we hold begrudging respect for Tim Sake, not because he's an upstanding citizen but simply because he can find witnesses for our lovely LKW <3 I insist there was no better role in _The Moonlighters_ for Tim Sake than a private investigator. Canon confirmed it.
> 
> We challenge those of you who know to try and guess who Eleanor is based on <3 She's quite important to the case, as you'll see later. Additionally, welcome to *sad Lauren* hours. You've finally got a semi-complete backstory!!! I'm sure some of you suspected it, but now you all can get a better grasp of her motivations!
> 
> Of course, Giggle had to go and sneak in flower language again. So here's the meanings:
>
>> **Gladioli:** Honor, strength of character. As a mourning flower, represents remembrance.  
>  **Daisies:** Innocence, purity (but this one you all already know lmao).  
> 
> 
> Thank you all as usual for reading, and for those of you who had finals this past week (like us), I hope you did amazingly! Congrats on being done. To those of you who still have exams, you've got this!! Leave a comment or a kudos if you'd like, they're always appreciated :D 


	16. Determining Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > "Is there anything we have to address outside the presence of the jury?” 
>> 
>> Kieran stood, buttoning his blazer as he nodded. “Yes, your Honor. I’d like to introduce a new witness for the defense.”  
> 

L auren was particularly agitated.

Of course, she hadn’t been quite at peace since March had burst into the Manor on Thursday, and her rendezvous with Kieran at his apartment on Friday hadn’t helped either. Randall’s case seemed to chase after her like a particularly petulant child, tugging at her sleeves regardless of the time of day. It was nearly impossible to enjoy her food, which was particularly obnoxious since Lucy _made_ her sit at the dining table and practically forbade her from leaving her seat until she finished. She had been unable to think about _anything_ but how he had managed to find the witness so quickly. 

But today, she was _particularly_ distressed, practically unable to stop fiddling with the hem of her skirt. One could say she was almost _nervous_ for what Kieran White had to bring to the table. Lauren had honestly never felt her heart rate speed up with something other than pride and triumph since that _one_ time she had been late to class and was immediately cold-called by the professor, and she was almost disgusted at herself for letting a _case_ get her so emotionally invested.

She wasn’t sure she trusted Kieran White. Sure, he hadn’t lied to her, but he had already evaded her ability before even knowing she had it. Though he had told her his secrets – that he belonged to a _Mafia Family_ , of all things –, it had been a carefully calculated move so that there was no possible way for her to use it against him or his client. He _was_ right. She _had_ breached client confidentiality by looking into that file. He hadn’t verbally offered her to look through its contents and they were technically just opposing sides of a case meeting up at his apartment to talk over some coffee. He had read her like a book and guided her straight into a trap.

_No wonder he’s such a good attorney._

Climbing the stairs of the courthouse today felt different. She had walked through those doors on the first day of the hearing expecting that she’d finally be offered some closure and might be able to _truly_ tell those around her that she was alright without hearing the lies ricocheting in her ears. She had gotten _none_ of that and instead was left with more unanswered questions than she did in the beginning. Despite telling herself that she shouldn’t be so interested in the background of a man she had met mere weeks ago, Lauren Sinclair refused to let the chance of finally getting to the truth slip through her fingers.

The halls of the courthouse were packed, and Lauren had to shove her way past the crowd, clutching her coffee cup close to her chest, muttering quick apologies whenever she elbowed an innocent stranger a little too hard as she eagerly headed towards the assigned courtroom.

Surprisingly, Kieran White was already outside the courtroom when she arrived, leaning casually against the wall as he sipped what she assumed was another one of his tea lattes. She really couldn’t comprehend how he stayed awake; either he drank a _lot_ of tea or he must take naps in the middle of the day, because _she_ could barely stay awake with just one cup of the strongest black coffee she could find.

As the courtroom opened a few moments later, they checked in with the clerk together. Refusing to acknowledge each other properly, the two opted for whispering at each other with their eyebrows raised. 

_How did you manage to find a witness_ this _quickly?_

_Well, the means don’t matter as long as they’re legal, right?_

Lauren only huffed, twirling her pen in her fingers. Finally having enough of whispering, since coffee dried her throat out and made it almost painful to whisper for long periods of time, she turned over to Kieran.

“You _know_ that there’s a chance that Adila won’t let you add a witness, especially on such short notice, right?” 

Kieran only smiled in response. “Technically, you were aware of the witness prior to trial. Additionally, their testimony’s importance to the case will likely convince her to let the witness testify. After all…” he smirked at her. “The prosecutor won’t be _too_ adamant about sticking to protocol, will she?”

“Can you at least tell me what your witness will be saying?”

“Well,” he hummed, glancing at his watch. “We’ve got around five minutes, so I’ll make it brief. Eleanor Zhang, bartender at the Golden Clover. Just past midnight, the night of the murder, she heard some… Suspicious things during her shift.” Catching the way Lauren was about to object, he quickly continued before she could say anything. “Before you ask, she told me that the reason she didn’t report anything was that she was only able to hear snippets of the conversation.” 

Just as he finished, the clerk called the court to order. Leaning towards Lauren, Kieran whispered: “I suppose you’ll just have to wait and hear the rest. After all, nothing can throw the _legendary_ Prosecutor Sinclair off her feet, right?”

She gripped her notes in her hands as she rose, clenching her jaw, resisting the urge to retort or hit him above the head with her pile of papers.

Now seated at the bench, Judge Themins gestured for everyone to sit. 

“Is there anything we have to address outside the presence of the jury?” 

Kieran stood, buttoning his blazer as he nodded. “Yes, your Honor. I’d like to introduce a new witness for the defense.” 

Adila looked up from her notes, surprised. She arched one of her black eyebrows. “Mr. White, you must be aware that this may constitute a violation of the compulsory process clause?” 

“Yes, your Honor. However,” he continued, sweeping a few strands of hair out of his forehead, “I did not _willfully_ withhold information on my witness. In fact, I have just found her yesterday, and Ms. Sinclair here was made aware of my intention to call her to the stand, though she wasn’t made aware of all of the details of the testimony due to the time constraint.”

Judge Themins turned to face Lauren, gesturing for her to respond. “Is this true, Ms. Sinclair?”

Lauren stood, her skirt of a muted periwinkle delicately ghosting across her legs. “Yes, your Honor. Despite the short notice, I was technically made aware of this new witness.” 

Adila stared at her in surprise. She hadn’t expected Lauren to assent to the introduction of the new witness so easily and was already bracing herself for what she thought was an inevitable explosion between the two attorneys, judging by their previous interactions in the courtroom.

“And what was the reasoning behind the request to introduce this new witness all of a sudden, Mr. White?” 

“Her testimony adds an incredibly important dimension to the understanding of the case and is key to proving my client’s innocence.” 

Adila nodded, scribbling something onto her notepad. “Well, I’m going to trust your judgment, Mr. White. However, I’m also obligated to ask for Ms. Sinclair’s opinion, since, as we mentioned, surprise witnesses are _not_ standard protocol.” 

Lauren huffed, taking a deep breath before once again rising. “No objection to the witness, your Honor. I just ask that the state be able to impeach the witness should she be proven _uncredible_ ,” she requested, sending a quick glare towards Kieran. He winked at her inconspicuously, acknowledging the unspoken agreement between them: _if a_ single _lie is heard, no mercy will be shown._

Judge Themins smiled. “Of course. Is there anything else that we should address before I have the jury brought in?”

Kieran and Lauren stood simultaneously. “No, your Honor.” 

_And with that, the final act begins._

* * *

Eleanor sat in the witness box, lacing and unlacing her fingers. She had worn a striped blazer today, and she was desperately missing the comfort of her usual leather jacket. It felt restricting and was barely enough to repel the chill of the room. The bright lights in the courtroom reminded her of her lecture halls and cued feelings of anxiety associated with hours of studying and stressful exams, and she couldn’t wait to get out of the room.

Kieran stood, flipping through his notes before looking up at her. “Good morning, Ms. Zhang.” 

“Good morning,” she responded. 

“Thank you for being here today,” he said, giving Eleanor a calm smile, hoping to ease her nervousness. “Please tell us what your occupation is.”

“I’m a university student at the Ardhalis Central University, but I also work as one of the senior bartenders at The Golden Clover.” 

Kieran nodded. “Could you please tell us where you were on the night of October 25th through dawn on the 26th?” 

“I was working an extra shift at the Golden Clover,” she replied. “One of the girls called in sick, and my manager called me to take her shift. I began at 10:00 and left after closing, around 5:00 am.”

“Did anything, in particular, happen that night?”

“Yes,” Eleanor said, “a pair of odd patrons came in. The Clover has its own share of… Interesting patrons, but these two still stuck out.”

“Could you tell us who you saw?”

“I don’t know them, since they aren’t regulars,” she began. “They might have been a couple, the woman and the man, but I’m not sure.”

“Could you describe them to us, please, Ms. Zhang?”

She looked at the ceiling, furrowing her brow in deep thought before answering: “I couldn’t see much, but I do recall some things. The woman had short, pink hair, a little on the taller side, and slim. It was hard to see her features through the veiled headpiece she wore,” she paused, gesturing with her hands. “It was one of those fishnet ones? It hid most of her face. Elegantly dressed. Maybe in her thirties?”

“And the man?”

“He was covered head to toe in winter clothing. I couldn’t even see his hair, he kept it hidden beneath a tweed hat. There was a scarf covering his face. I remember suggesting he give them to the doorman, but he refused. I couldn’t see much. I just remember he was tall and slim as well, and his skin was pale too, almost paper-thin. I could see his veins whenever he grabbed his glass. Very nicely dressed as well.”

“Did you spend a lot of time around them, to recall all of this?”

“No, I had other patrons to serve. But I like observing people, and I thought they were interesting, so I glanced back at them from time to time.”

Kieran nodded, revising his notes before asking his next question, treading carefully. “And what made this pair so unusual, Ms. Zhang? What happened that night that’d make you remember them almost a month after?”

Her hands gripped the sleeves of her pressed blazer as she took a breath before continuing. She smiled shakily. “As in, aside from their very suspicious looks?”

A soft whisper of laughter ran by the room, and Kieran smiled slightly at her words. She seemed a little more relaxed thanks to this, so Kieran simply replied:

“I am the one asking the questions here, Ms. Zhang, please limit yourself to answering.”

Eleanor gulped, nodding quickly. “Yes, sure, sir. Excuse me. Um… That night, this pair came in and sat at the bar, ordered their drinks and they were talking. You know, nothing truly extraordinary. However, as I was serving them I overheard the woman giving the man instructions. They were talking about Captain Hermann…” she paused, lowering her gaze to the table with her brow furrowed. “I thought it was weird when the woman said he was dead? I don’t remember her exact words but she said something about ‘Hermann’ dying. Of course, I work close to the APD, so I knew who he was. I thought he had passed away earlier that evening, during work or something, so I didn’t pay it much attention.”

“What time was this around?”

“Ah, almost 3:00 am, I believe.”

“You _believe_ or are you _sure_ , Ms. Zhang?” Kieran pressed.

“I am sure,” she muttered after thinking it through a few seconds. “I was checking the clock because I was waiting for my shift to end.”

“Alright, Ms. Zhang, what happened after that?”

“I only heard tidbits of the conversation, but soon after the man left. The woman stayed by the bar, ordered some more drinks, but nothing out of the ordinary. She smoked a cigar, and I remember that it smelled slightly floral, so I thought that was interesting too. About an hour and a half after he left, the man came back and sat next to her again. As I was serving them their last round, he told her something like ‘It’s done’.”

Lauren tensed visibly, her fists clenched in her lap, hidden under the table. A murderer, and this woman… This _girl_ had seen him, heard him, and let him loose. She heard brief taps sounding from behind her. 

_Tip, tip, tip. Tap. Tap._

Another iteration of the same sequence was tapped out from behind her, and she turned slightly to see Kym and Will smile comfortingly at her. 

_Hugs and Kisses_. The very first thing that Kym had taught her in Morse code. She remembered laughing when her friend decided to teach her “88” instead of “SOS”, much to Will’s annoyance. Kym had only grinned, pinching both Lauren and Will’s cheeks.

_With all three of us together, you’ll never be calling for help. You’ll have hugs and kisses instead!_

They had taken time out of their day to attend today’s hearing. She had been vague over the phone about what got her so distressed, and though they had decided not to pry, they still arrived to support her. Now, slowly understanding even though the Viper button had yet to be brought up, they offered their subtle encouragement. 

Kieran was quick to continue his questions, not sparing Lauren a single glance to gauge her reaction.

“Did you hear anything else that night, Ms. Zhang?”

She continued fiddling with the sleeves of her blazer as she replied. “Yes, yes… Um, I was making a drink so I was near them for a little bit. I heard the woman insult the man for being careless over… Ah, I believe she said ‘some idiotic cop’. They were talking about a police officer for sure, someone who had seen the man.”

“And at what time was this second conversation, Ms. Zhang?”

“A quarter before five, perhaps? We closed shortly after.”

Kieran nodded. “Alright. Ms. Eleanor. Can you remember anything else you saw or heard that night? Anything precise?”

“Well,” she hummed, tilting her head from side to side. “I remember the woman arriving before the man. When he came in, I heard pieces of her complaining about him being late or something. That’s also why I originally thought they might have been a couple. So many of the people I’ve seen at the Clover argue about small things like that…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Anyhow, I checked back on them a couple of times, got them drinks, you know, that sort of thing. At some point in time, she handed him a small paper bag. I don’t know what was in it, but she told him to be careful. That’s about all I heard, other than their mentions of Captain Hermann, of course.”

“Could you please repeat, to the best of your ability, what they said about Captain Hermann?”

“She said ‘Hermann’s dead and nobody knows.’ I assumed that she meant that nobody knew how he died, or that his death wasn’t public yet. I mean, police work is dangerous and there’s always a chance to die in patrol, right? I assumed he had died earlier.”

“Thank you, Ms. Eleanor,” Kieran smiled. “No more questions from me, your Honor.”

Lauren stood, filled to the brim with questions. Despite believing Kieran when he said that Lukas was innocent, she still held some reservations about this particular witness.

“Good morning, Ms. Zhang,” she started, tapping her pen against the desk. 

“Good morning,” Eleanor replied.

“I’ll be showing you a picture right now,” she began. Lauren turned towards Judge Themins, handing a photo of the button to the clerk. “Your Honor, I would like to admit Exhibit 4.” 

Adila nodded, glancing briefly at Kieran. “Any objection?” 

“No, Judge,” Kieran responded. 

“Ms. Eleanor,” Lauren continued. “Do you by any chance recognize this button?” 

Eleanor stared at the photo, frowning. “It seems familiar, but I… I don’t really pay _that_ much attention to people’s clothes.”

Lauren huffed, letting the silence hang for a few seconds before continuing. “Do you recall if the woman or the man at the bar that night had similar buttons? Maybe of similar color or size?”

Eleanor lit up, nodding frantically. “I _do_ know that the man that night had decorative buttons of a similar size on his hat!” She sighed once again, drumming her fingers against the table. “I can’t be sure that it’s the same kind though. After all, hat buttons are all around that size, I guess.” 

“But you recall seeing something similar on the man that night, correct?”

“Correct. In fact, I remember being a little curious when he came back since he seemed to be arguing with the pink-haired woman. They kept pointing at his hat...” 

“I see...” Lauren groaned internally, well aware that she appeared to be tearing her own case apart. _What can I do, I can’t convict a person who isn’t guilty._

“Now, Ms. Eleanor, you mentioned that all of this happened on October 26th, early morning, right?”

“Yes, _madame_.” Eleanor nodded.

“Then, please, Ms. Zhang, tell everyone here: why didn’t you report this to the police? What you saw and heard that night was very incriminating, was it not? Why didn’t you report it sooner?”

The poor woman was nervous, that much was clear. She was probably fearing for her own freedom, and Lauren could almost hear the words _“obstruction of justice”_ echoing through the young girl’s head. Still, Eleanor replied steadily, much to Lauren’s surprise. “As I already explained, I hadn’t been aware of what happened to Captain Hermann. I imagined that they had been at the crime scene that night before he died, and I brushed it off when I saw the headlines the morning after. I never thought they could’ve been involved in it.”

“I see,” Lauren sighed. “Ms. Zhang, were you aware that Captain Hermann was found dead in his office at the APD?”

“Yes, I read it in the papers.”

“And were you also aware, Ms. Zhang, that the estimated time of death of Captain Hugues Hermann is between 4:00 to 5:00 am on the morning of October 26th?”

Eleanor stared blankly at Lauren as she absorbed this new information, her eyes widening gradually as realization slowly washed over her. She stuttered as she tried to find her words.

“I… I had no idea, _madame_. I truly didn’t know,” she threw the jury a panicked look before turning to Lauren again. “Then that means– God, that means…”

“I’m afraid so, Ms. Zhang,” Lauren nodded. “This conversation you heard happened when Captain Hermann was still alive.”

Eleanor covered her gasp with her hand, understanding the situation quickly. Lauren gave her a couple of seconds to recover before picking up where she had left off.

“Alright, Ms. Zhang, one last question,” Lauren gestured to the Defendant’s side, urging Eleanor to direct her attention towards Lukas as she asked: “The defendant here is Officer Lukas Randall, accused of the Captain’s murder for being found unconscious in the crime scene. Take a good look at him, Ms. Zhang. Does _Monsieur_ Randall share any similarities with the man you saw that evening?”

Eleanor complied and stared intensively at Lukas, examining him head to toe from her spot in the witness box. Uncomfortable at being treated like some sort of specimen, Lukas squirmed in his seat but made the effort to keep his head up so Eleanor could look at him clearly, holding back his grimace as her dark eyes, the color of burnt umber, took in every detail of him.

After a few seconds of consideration, Eleanor frowned and shook her head.

“No, _madame_ , he doesn’t look like him at all.”

The jury shook in their seats. The audience broke in surprised mutterings and exclamations, and from her seat, Lila Desroses gasped joyfully. Adila was quick to call to order, requesting Ms. Zhang to continue.

“I mean… They have a similar build. Tall and slender. But… I mean, their skin tones don’t match at all. The man that night had skin _so pale_ , I mean it, one could see the veins in his hands. Mr. Randall… He’s got a darker skin tone.”

Lauren took a shaky breath. “Thank you very much, Ms. Zhang. No more questions, your Honor.”

As he watched Lauren sit down next to him, Kieran couldn’t help but stare at the scarlet-haired woman in awe. He had half-expected her to try and tear apart Eleanor’s statement by tripping her up and twisting her words, but she had kept her promise. He had done his part by finding a reliable, legal witness, and she had played fair. Having never lost a case personally, he couldn’t even _imagine_ how she was feeling. She had practically handed over the case to him on a platter yet continued to look just as confident and composed as she always did. 

Perhaps that’s the kind of beauty fire has that draws a moth to its doom. 

* * *

“Excuse me, Ms. Sinclair!” 

Lauren turned, searching for the source of the voice amidst the crowd as Kym tugged on Will’s sleeve to get him to stop walking. Kieran hurtled towards her, apologizing to the poor commuters on the sidewalk he bumped into or accidentally hit with his briefcase in his haste to catch up to Lauren.

“Hi,” he exhaled heavily, slightly winded from running after her. Straightening up, he grinned at her. “I… I just wanted to say thank you.” 

Lauren shifted her purse to her other hand, staring at him in confusion. “What is there to thank me for?” 

Kieran blinked, finally noticing the two sets of curious eyes staring at him from either side of Lauren. “For keeping your word in there, I suppose. And…” he paused, staring pointedly at Kym and Will.

Kym giggled, waving her hand in front of her face. “Oh, absolutely. Lauren, Will and I will just be standing here, take your time. The booking for the restaurant isn’t until thirty minutes later, anyway.” Spinning away, she grabbed Will’s hand once again and bounced away towards one of the large window displays of a grocery store. “Look, Will! _There’s watermelon, and…”_

Lauren shook her head at the duo, fully aware that Kym was still keeping an eye –and most importantly, an _ear–_ on them. “Sorry, they’re always like that. What were you going to say?” 

“They’re definitely different from the duo I saw at the police station that day,” he began curiously, collecting himself. “Are they dating?” 

Lauren burst out laughing, nearly dropping her purse as she doubled over. “No, no they’re not, actually. They’ve been like this since before I met Kym, from what I know, and I’m certain that it’ll happen soon. They’re just… Just a little blind.”

“Ah,” Kieran said, scratching the back of his neck. “You’d think that they were already dating for at least a year with their interactions.” Glancing back at the two, who were now bickering over what appeared to be two boxes of blueberries, he leaned towards her as he smirked slightly. “I was wondering… _Do you believe me now?_ ”

Lauren took a step closer to him, now almost toe to toe with Kieran. Standing on her toes to get closer to his ear, she whispered back: “That’s for me to know, and you to find out, now isn’t it.” She stepped back once again, miming a quick bow before turning away from him, coat twirling in the air as she winked at him. “See you tomorrow, Mr. White.”

Kieran stood staring at her as she walked away, watching as she reached Kym and Will. They shoved two boxes of blueberries at her, likely asking for her opinion about their quality. Giggling, she took both before linking one of her arms with Kym’s, and as Will grudgingly linked his arm with Kym’s other arm, the three of them left the scene chained together like schoolchildren, still discussing (or more likely, bickering) over blueberries between bursts of laughter.

Kieran chuckled, turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction, the scent of burnt sugar and coffee still fresh in his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giggle here! With Eleanor's testimony, you all have even more bases to theorize. Who is this mystery man? I hope everyone caught on to who the woman was, I think it was quite obvious. And finally, a ray of hope for the Randalls! Eleanor comes bearing surprises ;D
> 
> You local fluff enthusiast (that's me, hello!) loves the friendship between our (in canon) APD trio. Even if they are not working together in this story, I believe it's quite obvious I give the three of them as much spotlight as possible without whacking the narrative. Kywi has been a little absent around Arc 1, but boy will they be showing up in Arc 2 ;)))
> 
> This does not affect the story in anything, but alas, we'd like to inform you that _The Moonlighters_ is now divided into three Arcs instead of two. We do this for the sole purpose of the order, and Arc 2 was so long we had to cut it, so now there are three arcs. We'd also like to announce that the end of Arc 1, Chapter 18, will be released on January 2nd! Yes, that means we'll update this Wednesday, have fun! As a final announcement, _The Files_ will soon be completed, so expect another update of them soon. After Arc 1 is done we won't have quite as many chances (or necessity) to make Files, but if we _do_ add something to it, you'll be informed!
> 
> That's it with announcements for today, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and _please_ let us know what you think! We love, love, LOVE your comments and we're so happy you all are liking this story. Thank you so much for your support! <3


	17. Decisive Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _There’s no turning back now._
>> 
>>   
> “Yes, your Honor,” she began, standing up slowly. “I… I have something before we begin.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! There's music in this chapter starting at a point. When you see a little hyperlink, go ahead and click it!

_ "T hank you_, huh?” Kym snickered, elbowing Lauren in the ribs teasingly.

“Yes, _thank you_ , that was it–” Lauren smacked Kym’s elbow away. “– _would you stop?_ I don’t see what you find so amusing.”

“You don’t see it but I’m sure Will does. Right, Will?”

“I am not joining you.” Will shook his head. “Stop harassing Lauren.”

“You two are no fun!” Kym released their arms as if giving up on them and proceeded to walk backward in front of them, effortlessly avoiding bumping into a passerby. “Say, Lauren, I think that’s the first guy I’ve seen interact with you that I haven’t had to save you from.” 

Will looked at her, offended. “Where do _I_ land, then? And walk properly!”

“ _And walk properly,_ ” Kym mocked, rolling her eyes. “You sound like an old man, that’s why you don’t apply!”

“I beg your–”

“You two never change,” Lauren cackled. “I swear you’d go on for hours if you could.”

“Ah no, don’t avoid the question!” Kym grinned. “What’s between you and that White guy, huh? You’ve never been this _friendly_ with your rivals.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t insinuate what you just did,” Lauren said, rolling her eyes.

“Still avoiding.”

“There’s nothing between Kieran White and me.”

To her surprise, it was Will who made the next question: “Then what was he thanking you for, right now?”

Lauren groaned internally. There was no way she could tell them about her encounter with Kieran on Friday. Not only was there _questionable_ information involved that'd earn her a direct pass to jail, but it would also earn her weeks of endless teasing from Kym if she found out Lauren had gone to his apartment. She could already hear the innuendos.

"He thanked me for not pressing on Lukas' innocence when I was questioning Ms. Zhang," she replied. Technically, that wasn't a lie. "But really, after that testimony, it would be foolish to insist. The evidence is too questionable. I'm sure nothing I could've said could've swayed the jury, and there was literally nothing left there for me to question anymore."

Kym and Will nodded at her explanation, letting the sound of Lauren’s heels on concrete fill their bubble before Kym asked: "Well… Now what? What can Lukas and Lila expect?"

Pondering this as she popped a few blueberries into her mouth, Lauren dodged a trio of young children running down the street. “Well,” she said, “we can either wait until the jury inevitably declares Mr. Randall not guilty, wait for Mr. White to ask for a directed verdict, or I might do a voluntary dismissal for preponderance of evidence," she replied.

"And it'll be over?" William asked.

Lauren nodded. "And it'll be over. Monsieur Randall will be free of any charges, but not completely off the hook. Society will still be wary of him until the real culprit is found, especially with how much press his case has been getting. But either way, he'll finally be able to return to his position in the APD and resume his life normally."

"That's great news!" Kym beamed, surprising multiple passersby as she twirled, her skirt wrapping around her legs like a mini whirlwind. "Finally, we'll have Grumpy Cat back, _Lieutenant_! Isn't that great?"

Will smiled. "Indeed it is. Finally, I'll have less paperwork to do, too."

Kym gasped, before pouting at Will with her arms crossed. "I've been helping you with the paperwork!"

"As you should!" Will stopped in his response to open the door of the restaurant for both of them. "You're my _Sergeant_ , you're _supposed_ to help me!" 

" _Oh god_." Lauren laughed, pushing past the bickering pair into the lobby of the restaurant, asking for “Mr. Hawkes’” reservation as she shook her head fondly at her friends.

Amidst the mess in her life, she knew that she could always count on Will and Kym to be by her side, cheering her up with the laughs ricocheting through her ears.

* * *

After lunch with Will and Kym, Lauren had gone back to the office, resorting to burying herself in the piles of paperwork and cases she insisted on taking before heading home at seven. Lucy had demanded that she make it home sooner tonight since she had started brewing a stew last night and wanted Tristan and Lauren to have it fresh out of the stove.

The day had grown colder every passing hour, greeting her with a grey sky and far too many clouds to see the blue past them when she left the DA’s office.

 _It’s probably going to snow tomorrow_. 

Since her uncle had yet to arrive home, she snuck upstairs to have a warm shower before dinner. She had never been particularly fond of the cold and was thankful Ardhalis’ winters were never harsh like those up north with blankets of snow every other day and chilling breeze all the day. However, the walk across the yard alone left her freezing tonight and she was eager to bask in the relaxation steaming water provided.

She stopped briefly at her office to drop her purse at the desk before heading to the bedroom, unpinning her hair and tossing it around as she sorted through her drawers to find a pair of fluffy socks and the new towel that Yuzi had gotten the other day. Some nights, she’d be too tired by the time she finished showering and would collapse onto the bed in her bathrobe. However, after the incident repeated itself too many times for her liking, Lucy had begun laying out sets of pajamas on her bed so she wouldn’t have to look for them herself through the drawers.

Tucking the set of soft grey pajamas and the forest green towel under her arm, Lauren strode into the bathroom, turning on the water as she undressed so that it’d warm up in time. Her reflection rubbed her eyes in tandem with her as the steam rose and fogged up the mirror, and with a tired sigh, Lauren stepped into the shower at last.

Despite trying to distract herself by meeting with Kym and Will or directing all her energy into other cases, the Randall case still bounced around inside her mind incessantly. Though she was pretty sure that he hadn’t killed Hermann (quite hard to believe that now, she supposed), she couldn’t help but feel anxious at the idea of asking for a voluntary dismissal. 

As she had told Kym earlier that day, she could either leave Lukas’ fate up to the jurors, or she could take matters into her own hands. However, asking Adila for a dismissal meant that she _admitted_ her judgment of Lukas had been wrong. She groaned, hands tangled in her now-bubble-filled hair. She had never “lost” a case before. Thinking that her first loss would be because of her own foolish doing made her stomach churn; if the jury were to declare him not guilty, she could just brush that off as a successful appeal to emotion on Kieran White’s part and hopefully salvage her pride a little bit. If _she_ were the one to request that he be let off… Well, she actually didn’t know _what_ would happen. Directed verdicts were commonly requested by the Defense, but it wouldn’t be the first time the prosecution would voluntarily dismiss either.

In law school, all the first-year students had been taught that the responsibilities of a prosecutor included not insisting on continuing proceedings if an investigation proved the charges to be unfounded. While defense attorneys could defend their clients as long as they didn’t indicate a desire to commit a future crime, prosecutors were held to the higher standard of protecting the public interest, not just the interest of their own clients. 

_Did_ the investigation prove the charges against Lukas Randall to be unfounded? The trial had begun with almost all arrows pointing at him, nearly solidifying his case before he and Mr. White arrived in court. However, in what was apparently _Beyond_ ’s fashion, Kieran White had managed to poke holes in the state’s case and had even managed to find a witness that _strongly_ suggested that his client was innocent. 

_“... After all, the role of the defense attorney isn’t to prove their client innocent; it is to demonstrate that there is not enough evidence to prove that they’re_ guilty.” 

Lauren desperately tried to let the rushing water drown out her professor’s words. They had echoed in her mind constantly, taunting her, making her question her own judgment. More than once, those words had fueled her distrust towards defense attorneys. Just as she stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around herself as she wrung out her hair, a knock thankfully interrupted her thoughts. 

“Lady Lauren?” the voice, belonging to Elise, called from the opposite side of the door.

“Yes, I’m in here,” she called out, hurrying to dry herself off. 

As she had guessed, her uncle had finally arrived home. Judging by his usual routine, she had about ten minutes to be seated at the dining table before Lucy started nagging her about eating. 

With her hair still damp, Lauren flew out her bedroom door, huffing gently as she took her usual spot at the dining table right before Yuzi finished setting the dinnerware. Tristan looked at her flushed expression quizzically, almost laughing at what she assumed looked like a cocker spaniel that had been doused in water. 

“I see that you got home earlier than I did today, my dear.”

Lauren smiled awkwardly at him, still trying to catch her breath. “I hope that you had better luck getting home than I did? It’s freezing out there.”

Tristan simply chuckled. “You were always terrified of the cold. But yes, I didn’t have to wait too long for a taxi and the walk wasn’t _too_ brutal.”

Lucy swooped into the dining room, setting down two bowls of stew. “Well, I hope this warms both of you right up,” she beamed. Her smile grew even wider when both of them immediately began eating, nodding, and humming their approval. With a quick bow, she hurried into the kitchen again, leaving them to their meal.

Tristan and Lauren were well-practiced in the art of interrogating each other. One might say that this was to be expected, with both of them in the same profession that basically required ruthless interrogation for the truth. Even before her uncle became her legal guardian, Lauren remembered people constantly noting that she was too similar to her uncle, with their twin sets of irremediable workaholism, infuriating tendency to sleeplessness, and stubbornness that was too strong for their own good. Tristan had always encouraged their banter of wit and clever speech, always a game of tug-of-war until one of them gave in. However, he had decades of experience to his advantage, so in between quips and questions, he managed to squeeze an admission of exhaustion from her.

“What happened today that got you so tired?” he asked after joyfully swallowing a bit of the stew.

“It was just a _very_ long day,” she sighed, before deflecting to avoid having to give any more details: “It wasn’t all that bad though. I had lunch with Kym and Will, which was nice.”

“Do invite them over soon, I haven’t seen them since your birthday. I’d like to say hello to young William, and Kym is simply a lovable girl.”

“Will do,” Lauren hummed, falling into consideration for a few seconds.

… _It is to demonstrate that there is not enough evidence to prove that they’re_ guilty.

“Uncle, can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, darling, what is it?”

Lauren giggled at the way he almost sucked on his cutlery, desperate to get to every last drop of the stew. Despite being raised to follow the strict etiquette rules of “proper individuals,” they sometimes enjoyed breaking those rules in favor of actually enjoying their favorite dishes in the comfort of their own home.

Choosing her words carefully, Lauren continued: “If new evidence strongly implied that the defendant wasn’t guilty, would you wait for the jury to make their decision, or would you voluntarily dismiss the charges?”

Tristan considered her question while twirling his fork between his fingers. His reply mirrored her own speaking patterns: with carefully considered words, spoken slowly to assure a smooth and coherent answer. 

“Well, I believe it is only right to finish things quickly for someone innocent, don’t you think?” He gestured in the air with his hands, having set down his spoon and fork. “There’s no purpose in dragging it out. If someone is innocent, it’s the duty of a prosecutor to distinguish right from wrong and to not send people to cells for years just to boost their reputations,” he smiled. “At least, that’s what your father always believed, you know? And it’s what I’ve always lived and worked by. Willingly admitting that you’ve been wrong is proof of maturity and good thinking.”

He paused for a moment, lost in fond memories where Lauren couldn’t reach him before he snapped back, smiling at her.

“It’s a good sign in a prosecutor. It means they have a good head that's mounted firmly on their shoulders, and that they are willing to put down their pride in the name of justice. Don’t you agree, dear?”

Lauren stared back at him, her eyes noticing the way she had been unconsciously playing with a stray pea on her plate. She remembered the days when she’d visit the courthouse, holding her mother’s hand as she waited for her father in the lobby. The beautiful statue of Themis stood in proud glory at the center of the room, and Lauren never failed to marvel at the sight of her sword and scale as she begged her mother to explain their meanings. 

“ _See, my dear, the scales measure the strength of the cases, while the sword severs the truth from the lies, the fact from the fiction._ ”

To this day, Lauren had strived to live by her own sword and scale; she _would_ pursue justice for the greater good of society.

_Willing to put down their pride in the name of justice._

Lauren smiled at Tristan.

“Dedication to justice…” she nodded. “That is something I, too, want to live by.”

* * *

“ _... Know, it’s_ the last hearing before the jury delivers a verdict. Is there anything we need to address beforehand?” 

Lauren blinked, suddenly drawn back to the present. She had spaced out while Adila was busy stating formalities, her eyes fixated on the wooden table while the Judge talked, lost in thought and weighing down her options.

She had considered letting the trial continue. Perhaps it’d be fine; perhaps the jury would still find him not guilty without a need of her intervening. Maybe if she just stood up, asserted that there wasn’t anything they needed to address before the jury was brought in, she wouldn’t have to admit that she had been wrong, so massively, catastrophically mistaken and the Randalls would still have their happy ending.

_Put down their pride in the name of justice._

Tristan’s words rang through her head, steeling her nerves. She _had_ to do this. The Sinclairs lived by strict moral guidelines and she wouldn’t soil her Family name by shrinking in cowardice just to save face.

_There’s no turning back now._

“Yes, your Honor,” she began, standing up slowly. “I… I have something before we begin.” 

Both Kieran and Adila looked at her in surprise, waiting for her to continue. She took a deep breath to brace herself for her words, carefully uttering what she needed to say and only that. “I wish to make a voluntary dismissal.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lukas blinking in confusion as Kieran tapped his usual pen towards Lukas’ direction, likely trying to keep him from reacting visibly even when it was clear Lukas wasn’t exactly the most expressive person out there. Kieran held his demeanor in check, nodding slightly at her to continue. Meanwhile, Lila had covered her mouth to conceal a tiny gasp.

“The case against Mr. Lukas Randall has too many contradictory points,” she noted slowly, looking down at her notes to avoid the look of disbelief that Adila dedicated to her. “While much of the evidence the APD found at the crime scene suggested that Monsieur Randall was guilty, as Mr. White has demonstrated, the evidence could lead to incredibly different conclusions. Additionally, based on Ms. Eleanor Zhang’s testimony, I believe that there are too many points of doubt in this case and I don’t believe that it would be fair to make a decision that could impact the defendant’s life on the evidence we currently have. Thus, I request a dismissal of Mr. Lukas Randall’s charges without prejudice, shall any new evidence arise in the future.” 

Adila nodded in understanding. “As you know, dismissals are _not_ to be filed for the purpose of prosecutorial harassment. I trust that this wasn’t the goal,” she paused, turning her attention towards Kieran. “Mr. White, is there any objection to this dismissal.” 

Kieran rose quickly, brushing off his midnight-blue blazer. “No, your Honor.” 

Lauren sighed quietly in relief. She had been anxious that Kieran might try to push to demand for a dismissal with prejudice, but apparently, he had decided that either way, Lukas would be safe, at least temporarily. She was glad he realized as well that the evidence pointing at Lukas was too strong to dismiss so easily. There wasn’t a lot they could do for now in the legal area, now that their job was done, other than hope the detectives would find something soon.

However, Lauren Sinclair wasn’t one to wait for anyone.

Adila nodded to the both of them, pleasant surprise apparent in her eyes as she arranged her papers with ebony fingers. “Well, in that _case, I will…”_

Lauren caught Kieran’s eyes briefly, pretending to brush her bangs out of her face to hide the wink she sent his way. He smiled, tilting his head in response before turning to pay attention to Adila. Despite the fatal blow to her pride, she was oddly satisfied with the outcome of the case, pleased with herself for following her Uncle’s advice and asking for the dismissal. Who knows… Maybe, from some little corner in heaven, her father was proud of her too, despite still being unable to find who had killed him and her mother thirteen years ago as she had promised to.

But that would come in due time. She would make sure of it; this, she swore in Themis’ name. For now, she hoped they were proud of her for not sending an innocent man behind bars.

* * *

Lauren cracked her back as she stepped out of the courtroom. As expected, Adila had granted the motion and had dismissed the case without prejudice, leaving it to revisitation. From now on, they could only hope that the actual culprit would be found, for despite being technically free from all charges, society would likely still consider Randall the murderer until he was proven innocent.

_Isn’t it interesting that in a society where everyone is innocent until proven guilty, we still insist on someone’s guilt until the evidence is shoved before our eyes?_

Hermann’s family had taken the news surprisingly well, and even after being handed a delicate bouquet of purple hyacinths and babies’ breath as journalists bombarded everyone with questions, they remained collected on their way out of the building. Lauren pushed her way through the crowd, avoiding blinding flashes and questions, before making it to the side of Mrs. Hermann.

“I promise to find the true murderer,” Lauren whispered, gripping the woman’s arm gently. She only nodded, trying to escape the incessant questions of the journalists that chased after her, heaping a million questions about her reactions to the outcome of the case onto the widow and her children.

On the other hand, and despite his indifferent facade, she could tell that Kieran White was relieved at the pleasantly surprising outcome of the case. He hadn’t let go of Lukas and Lila since the hearing ended, rubbing Lila’s shoulders as she sobbed in between watery chuckles, her emotions running wild as her husband comfortingly gripped her hand on their way out of the courtroom. The trio, who had decided to stand off to the side to wait for the journalists to allow them to pass, had been chatting animatedly, likely making celebration plans. Lila had latched onto Lukas, seemingly unwilling to let go, and he had wrapped his arms around her too, their heads turned to Kieran as they talked with smiles of different sizes on their faces.

Kym and Will flanked Lauren on either side, waving away a few particularly persistent journalists. They watched as Hermann’s family filed quickly into a waiting car before speeding away, not answering more than what could have only been a handful of questions that the press had. The Hermanns had made it very clear they wanted to be left alone. Seeing that they likely wouldn’t be getting any more answers than they already had, the crowd slowly dispersed, finally allowing Lauren and everyone in the crowded hall to let out a sigh of relief. Her next hearing would begin soon in the opposite wing of the courthouse, which gave her an excuse to walk Kym and Will to the exit.

However, as she walked past the celebrating trio, who had apparently calmed down slightly judging by the way Lila dabbed at her eyes sporadically, Kieran reached out a hand to catch her arm gently, much to everyone’s shock.

“Pardon me, Ms. Sinclair,” he began. “I’m sure you’re busy, but I was wondering if you had a minute?” 

She met his pointed stare slowly, still in shock at the gentle hold he had on her wrist. Noticing her surprise, Kieran let go of her arm slowly, waiting for her answer as she retreated it to her side. 

“I have another hearing soon, so–”

“Oh, that’s no problem. None at all. We’ll make it brief, we just wanted to thank you,” he said hurriedly, gesturing to Lukas and Lila behind him, offering her grateful smiles before stepping aside to leave them alone. He smiled at the three of them casually. Kym and Will had taken two steps back in some mock attempt of privacy, initiated by Will, of course. “And… There are a few… _Issues_ that I’d like to discuss with you,” he noted, grinning at her in a way that looked a little more forced than usual. “ To discuss paperwork matters and to tie up whatever’s left for the case.” 

Rolling her eyes mentally at his sorry excuse of a lie, she smiled back politely. She knew what this was about. “Of course, that’d be fine. We _do_ have some things to discuss. I was planning to reach out to Ms. Desroses about it in a while, but if you’re available tonight…” she trailed off questioningly, making a show of shifting her purse to her other arm to check her watch.

“Perfect, that’d be great,” Kieran replied. “I actually won’t be heading back to my office today and will probably be spending most of my time at this address after working hours.” 

He paused, scribbling something onto the back of a business card, using his briefcase as a makeshift desk before handing it to her. “Go ahead and meet me here, just ask someone if you can’t find me. I’m a regular.”

Inconspicuously blocking the card from Kym’s curious eyes, she quickly examined the address, nodding before locking eyes with him, staring knowingly. “That’s great, what time?”

“I’ll probably be there until pretty late tonight. I _love_ the books there,” he replied cheekily.

Lauren nodded, holding back the urge to scoff at his stupid quips, and tucked the card deep into her purse in case _someone_ tried to take it. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll have to get going for now; see you later, Mr. White.” She shook Kieran’s hand before spinning around, purposefully ignoring Kym’s grin as she resumed her path to the next courtroom. 

Once they were out of view from the other trio, Kym leaned towards Lauren, looking like she had just solved the biggest mystery in Ardhalis’ history. “ _So,_ is my girl finally getting a date?” 

Will groaned, dragging his hand over his face. “Ladell, I now know why you never do your paperwork. I suppose you’re hard of hearing since you _clearly_ missed when Mr. White said that he had _business_ to do with her.”

“And you must have _eyesight problems_ if you truly can’t tell that was a bluff.”

Lauren snorted, shaking her head at the two and praying to the gods Kym would _please_ stop being so smart at inconvenient times. “No, actually, I _sincerely_ have business with him about the case,” she responded, wincing slightly at the half-truth. Will didn’t question her further, and though Kym didn’t seem convinced she still hugged her before bouncing out of the courthouse’s glass doors. 

“Well, whatever it is, you better tell me _all_ about it afterward!” 

Waving at the two officers, she hurried towards the courtroom, muttering under her breath that if everything went as planned, she might as well have to.

* * *

[At seven-thirty](https://youtu.be/niWh_uweVT8) , Kieran was greeted by Lauren Sinclair at his doorstep with the most unamused expression on her face.

“ _I really enjoy the books there_ , huh? _I’m a regular_?”

He snickered, letting her in and dropping a pair of slippers on the floor. “Well, it would have been rather difficult for both of us to explain that we were meeting at my place. _How scandalous_ ,” he said, running his hands through his half-done hair. “Better let them think I’m meeting you at the nearby bookstore. Head on over to the living room; I’ll be right over.” 

“There’s something I’d like to ask for…”

Kieran wasn’t entirely sure what had possessed him to bring this woman into his apartment twice when nobody but two of his closest friends had been there, but alas, here they were again. He stood in the kitchen, putting the coffee maker he only ever brought out when Lukas came over to good use as she sat in his living room, completely focused on the file in her hands she had earlier requested for. As he waited for the coffee and tea to brew, he snuck a glance at her. The sun had begun setting, bathing her in orange, gold, and bronze as she read, arm draped over the backrest of the sofa as she rested her head in her palm. She stopped flipping through the pages briefly, glimpsing out of the huge polished windows as the light dimmed with every passing second. 

She glowed under the sun, too, he noticed. He couldn’t decide if the moonlight looked better than the fading daylight that glinted off of her.

“You have a gorgeous view of the city here,” Lauren commented, turning on the couch towards him just as he turned back towards the counter to evade her gaze, pretending to prepare the mugs. “I can’t believe I didn’t appreciate it last time, it’s a surprisingly good view for a twelve-story building.”

“We’re just a few blocks from the river,” Kieran explained, pouring her coffee into the powdery green mug. “The buildings are smaller in this area.”

“Ah, I suppose that’s true.”

“No milk, no sugar for the lady,” he announced, taking his tea in his other hand and approaching her, placing the mug on the coffee table in front of her. He snickered. “Piping hot, just like you like it.”

“ _One_ more mention of the coffee incident and I’ll punch you in the face.”

“Duly noted,” Kieran laughed, gesturing to the seat beside her. “May I?”

“Yes, of course,” she scooted a little to the side as if the sofa wasn’t big enough for him to sit comfortably. Kieran took a seat at a safe distance from her, silently watching as she continued to flip through the pages with a focused stare, examining the typed letters and photographs attached.

She was the one to break the silence. “Say, when did you even _get_ the flowers? Did you just have them with you the whole time? And if you did… Why?” 

Kieran grinned, taking a sip of his tea. “Well, _madame_ , I was quite certain that regardless of what happened today, I’d be having to offer my _condolences_ to Hermann’s family. You can’t possibly fault me for being prepared. There hasn’t been a single party that I’ve faced that hasn’t gotten flowers from me; I wouldn’t want to seem like I was flaunting my success by not upholding my _sympathetic and empathetic_ reputation, now would I?”

Lauren hummed in acknowledgment. Her eyes fell to the file again. When she had asked him to allow her to read through Lukas’ file, he thought it was suspicious, but since he didn’t see how it could do any more harm than it already did, he had granted her wish.

“When you mentioned your friend was a mole in the APD… This is not exactly what I imagined he’d do. These are mostly reports on investigations, criminal cases...”

“I told you, he’s not the corrupt cop you’ve probably created in your head,” Kieran took the photograph clipped to the front of the file, chuckling at the picture of a younger Lukas. “Lukas… he only ever reports to me, since he’s directly under my orders. Most of the information he works with directly concerns me, though he sometimes reports to Jovie for stuff that affects her, like information he finds on opposing Families or a lead the APD has on the Reapers.” Catching the way she raised an eyebrow at this, he continued quickly. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t destroy any evidence or anything like that. He just… Lets her know, since that’s his only obligation to her, and she deals with it however she wishes via other moles or on her own. Most of the stuff he does is just for my cases, so I can know a little in advance what evidence already exists that might potentially not reach me.”

“I don’t get it,” Lauren said, dropping the report she had been examining. “He doesn’t seem to be that big of a piece in the game. And if neither of you are ‘official’ Reapers, then why can’t you just leave?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy, _madame_ ,” Kieran smiled sadly. “It’s hard leaving a place where no one wants to let you go.”

“You mentioned you are a mere weapon in their arsenal the other day,” Lauren murmured. “Someone they called to fix their legal problems. If you don’t mind me asking… Was it always like that? Did they raise you to send you to law school?”

Kieran leaned back. She just _had_ to go there. Clearing his throat, he fidgeted with the mug in his hands before taking a long gulp, suddenly feeling suffocated despite already having discarded his blazer, vest, and tie in favor of staying in just his white button-down and blue slacks alone. Noticing how uncomfortable he looked, Lauren grimaced.

“Sorry, I’m sure that’s not something you like to talk about.”

“No, it’s fine–”

“Mr. White–” she stopped, correcting herself. “ _Kieran_ . If you don’t feel comfortable replying to my question, that’s alright, but please, do _not_ lie to me,” she lowered her gaze, finding her coffee a much more enjoyable view than his look of discomfort. Quietly, she finished her statement: “I hate it when people lie to my face, so please don’t.”

Kieran nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry.” He set the mug on the coffee table, staring out of the windows towards the river. “About your question… Let’s just say I was lucky enough to find my way to law school. That’s all you need to know.”

Lauren accepted the reply and didn’t press the matter, instead directing his attention towards the photograph he had placed on the cushion and examined Lukas’ face. “So he’s been a mole since he entered the APD? How old is he in this picture, twenty one?”

Kieran burst out laughing. “He’s sixteen there!”

Lauren almost tossed the file across the room when she flung her hands out in shock.

“ _Sixteen?_ ”

“Sixteen!” Kieran laughed. “I _know_ , he always looked older than he actually was. That picture was taken when he was first initiated with the Reapers. I keep using it to bother him; he hates that picture with a burning passion.”

Lauren laughed, taking off the scarf she still wore as the fireplace warmed the room. “I can see why. He looks everything but happy.”

Kieran chuckled, taking a moment to appreciate the sight before him. He was tempted, incredibly tempted, to paint this very moment if not for how inappropriate it would be of him to paint a woman he barely knew, especially when painting was something he cherished so deeply. But he could already picture the layout: a background of neutral tones and a light grey sofa, and then _her_ sitting on it. Lauren Sinclair in striking reds and golds, with skin the color of porcelain or marble or snow, so very contrasting and so very beautiful. That burgundy dress hugging her body in just the right places, the bell sleeves, the scarf abandoned by her side, and the way she had flipped her hair to the side as she rifled through the file; all of this made her look like a vision straight out of a painting. Red falling down clear skin. The contrast was almost too shocking, but there was something incredibly charming about it.

He looked away.

“I trust you wanted to meet for more than just discussing my friendship with Lukas Randall.”

She nodded slowly, carefully closing the file and placing it on the coffee table, brushing the pink petals of the amaryllis in the pot. It was starting to wilt, but somehow looked even more beautiful that way.

“You’ve been thanking me for dismissing Mr. Randall’s charges, and I can’t say I deserve the gratitude, but I appreciate it anyway,” she began, sitting back with her leg tucked under her and the other one planted in the floor, facing Kieran. He mimicked her position and turned to face her, shifting on his shin. She continued: “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you revealed to me the other day, and no, don’t worry, I don’t plan on turning you to the police. You were right when you said that the ‘evidence’ was not legally obtained, and I also happen to doubt how much of a threat you are to society, besides letting criminals loose, of course.”

Kieran winced. “Don’t think for a moment I like it.”

“I assume you don’t, but I also understand that one must do what they must do to survive,” she rubbed her temple, seemingly conflicted. “... Despite how conflicting with my morals that is. My goodness, this is all so contradictory.”

Kieran hummed. “Well, let me try and figure it out for you. You’re agreeing to turn a blind eye to our involvement with– Ah, how did you word it? One of the largest, oldest, and _arguably_ most powerful Mafia Families in Ardhalis. You won’t report us to the police, even when your closest friends are _Lieutenant and Sergeant_ of the 11th Precinct and you clearly have a close relationship with the _Head Detective_ of the 11th’s APD…” Kieran stared at her pointedly. “I assume there is something you want in exchange for that.”

Lauren fell silent for a moment, taking her time to down the rest of her coffee, abandoning the mug with a loud clang against the stained glass of his coffee table. She looked at him straight in the eye, her aurate eyes hard and serious.

“Yes, I want something,” she admitted. “I want you to help me take down the Vipers.”

Kieran stood up abruptly, stepping back. She followed, explaining herself before he could interrupt her. “Your friend will never be off the hook until the real culprit is found, and I want to find that man. I have dedicated all my life to bringing the Vipers down as much as my position as prosecutor allows me, but that isn’t enough for me. I want to see them burn to the ground for what they did to me, and I will not stop until I achieve that.”

She straightened, allowing her usual courtroom aura to flow off of her in waves. “There is nothing you can say that will sway me from trying. However, I believe that by bringing down one of their largest opponents, you’ll be able to get out of the Family as well. You’ll finally be able to be free from your chains. Plus, perhaps we’ll be able to eradicate the Reapers in the process.”

Kieran gaped at her. “You want to destroy not one but _two_ Mafia Families that have been around far longer before you were born, because… Because of _personal revenge_ ? You expect a prosecutor and an attorney to destroy _generations_ of criminal activity?”

She smirked at him. “If you don’t feel capable, that’s a pity. I’d think you were a little more confident of your abilities.”

“There are a handful of things I lack, and confidence _definitely_ isn’t one of them,” he retorted. “However, I also don’t have a _death wish_ , Lauren,” he shook his head. “What you are implying is serious, and too dangerous for us to do alone.”

“That’s why we _won’t_ do it alone,” she said, picking up the file from the coffee table and waving it in front of his face. “We have your friend with us, surely. I doubt he is any more eager to stay in the Mafia than you are. I can convince Will and Kym quite easily, too. They don’t have to know everything; we can tell them we’re simply looking for Hermann’s murderer to clean Lukas’ name and they’ll agree. They are aware of my motivations as well, so it won’t be anything new to them. They’re somewhat of my informants at the police, and, as you already guessed, Detective March is a close friend of mine who gives me information about anything Viper-related since he has access to everything the IU has.” 

She was now pacing back and forth, rambling about everything as Kieran sat back down, stunned. “I have access to the APD’s Archives thanks to my friends, and you have firsthand experiences with the organizations that will help us dig deeper. There’s also Tim Sake. I don’t know who he is or what he does, but he works for you, he gets your witnesses, does he not?”

Kieran’s eyes shot wide open. “ _How_ did you find out about Sake?”

She grinned, proud, as she stopped walking to tower over him. “See? We already have every resource we could possibly need for the investigation. I am not stupid: if you despise the Family as much as you appear to, they must have done something terrible to you. I won’t pry,” she offered him her hand. “Help me with my goals and I help you with yours. It’s a win-win situation for the both of us.”

He recognized the look on her face at that moment. He was well acquainted with the flush of passion in her cheeks, the shine of thrill at an incoming challenge, and the grin she could barely contain in anticipation. He knew the ragged, deep breaths that made her chest quiver, and the slight tremor of her hands product of a combination of excitement and caffeine. Kieran found that he recognized this expression in Lauren Sinclair, and found he liked it too. Admiring her confidence in that stunning red dress, he mirrored her smirk with one of his own.

Rising from the couch, he held his gaze steady even when they were so close that she had to tilt her head to look at him properly, refusing to back down from the challenge this time. The height difference was evident without her heels, but the way Lauren stood and faced him without the tiniest hint of intimidation made him feel like the small one in the room; it was as if he was still sitting on the sofa and she was still looking down at him like one would to a fascinating insect.

Kieran was sure what she suggested was crazy and dangerous.

Luckily for her, he, too, was crazy and loved to flirt with danger.

He took the offered hand, gripping back as they shook hands once, twice, without breaking eye contact.

“We have a deal, Ms. Sinclair.”

Her smirk grew.

“We have a deal, Mr. White.”

He pulled her closer, reveling in the tiny gasp she suppressed, leaning down until his chin grazed her shoulder as he whispered in her ear:

“ _So it begins._ ”

And along with their partnership, the moon rose steadily, basking the pair in her silver glow and approving of something new that was blooming in her presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, Waters here!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed Arc One's semifinale! We're so excited that you guys have stuck with us for this long, and we hope you continue to stay with us for much longer!
> 
> So, the music for this chapter took... Quite a while. There were several cuts and extensions, and I hope my rudimentary editing skills didn't make the cuts too obvious. 
> 
> We love a girl that stays true to her word, guys. Love that for us. Lauren still sticking to her "morals"? YES PLEASE. Here's to hoping she stays with them and doesn't just go dark :))
> 
> One of my FAVORITE parts was writing Kieran's instructions for Lauren to meet him at his apartment. Cheeky LKW is my whole life and I cannot express my love for this man enough. He's just... too good??? He's just too good, y'all. Lauren's VERY much done with him, but unfortunately for her, she's stuck. Sorry (not sorry), darling. We love your interactions too much.
> 
> But hey! We _did_ promise Lune ;))))
> 
> I must admit...we got a little derailed while editing this ep:
>
>> **Announcement: Kieran is a leg man. 100% a leg man. I kid you not.**  
>  The whole time:  
> Kieran: “DANG LOOK AT THOSE- Okay Kieran White, eyes are UP, UP, not DOWN. NOT THOSE MILKY WHITE LEGS UP UP UP NO-”
> 
> Like...you can't tell me I'm wrong. You CANNOT tell me I'm wrong. Kier's too much of a gentleman to do anything but he has an ✨artistic appreciation✨ for such gorgeous legs. Also, the dress she's wearing doesn't help much to keep his leg fantasies at bay lmao.
> 
> ANYWAY, leave a comment and/or a kudos if you'd like, we adore each and every one of them!! We'll see you Saturday for Arc 1's finale, and perhaps a small surprise. <3


	18. Merry Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Oh, yes, I know I should be _so_ grateful,” Lukas jested, making a wild gesture to the kitchen island. “But this? This feels like an exaggeration. This is ridiculous–”
>> 
>> Lila slammed the knife into the cutting board, turning towards Lukas with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. Her black teacup skirt tangled between her legs at her sudden twirl. Lukas gulped, turning back towards the pineapple he was slicing. 
>> 
>> “ _What_ were you saying, darling?”  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out the [soundtrack](https://youtu.be/b6YWaFIBTDU) for this Arc 1 Finale!
> 
>  **Trigger Warning:** Mild depictions of violence.

W hen they aren’t arguing, Kym Ladell and William Hawkes make an extraordinary team.

It was quite apparent how easily they fell into teamwork. Both of them had worked tirelessly to get to where they were today, going as far as graduating from the Police Academy early to scale the APD ladder with exceptional speed. It was a mystery why William had yet to be promoted, but alas, their work was amazing and they were prodigies among their peers. One had the pressure of a family name on his shoulders; the other the wit and hard work of someone willing to rise above their station.

Once the constant bickering and banter were left behind, the duo transformed into the definition of what a Lieutenant and Sergeant were supposed to look like. He took the lead with her following closely behind him, their steps in perfect synchrony despite seemingly being perpetually at odds with each other. Kym’s speed and agility complemented Will’s sentinel firmness and precision; while he was quick to consider all the possible outcomes of his choices in order to pick the most efficient course of action for his subordinates, she was gifted with the ability to think out of the box, allowing her to always notice last-minute changes with the eagle eye that always guided her straight to the bullseye.

When they pushed towards Lauren, functioning as the perfect gears of a well-oiled clock, she couldn’t help beaming with pride as she fell into her defensive position against Will’s incoming kick.

Growing up, Lauren and Will did practically everything together even though Will was a year above her. They went to school together, took dancing lessons together, did their homework together, and would have playdates where his mother taught them piano at least once a week. Will had been overjoyed when she had told him she was considering police work, excited at the prospect of working together. Even when she had informed him that she’d pursue a career in law at thirteen, he had been nothing but enthusiastic and supportive.

When he entered the police academy, Lauren had pestered him into making it his life mission to teach her everything about self-defense he knew, begging him to teach what would eventually become their weekly training sessions. It helped him stay sharp and taught him how to instruct and had been a good source of exercise for her through her university years. 

Despite lacking prior training she quickly matched his pace. Kym, hoping to increase the difficulty (and honestly just to get on William’s nerves for “stealing his best friend”), had decided to add her own bit to the training sessions, showing up one day with three guns tucked into her slacks. In a couple of months, Lauren had also mastered firearms, much to Will’s exasperation and Kym’s satisfaction.

Ever since they graduated and began their careers, they had less time to meet and practice but still always found time at least once a month to brush up their skills. Lauren was immensely thankful for all they had taught her since she would likely have been stuck in some unpleasant situations if not for her friends’ insistence on training her reflexes.

It also made for perfect opportunities to catch up on what was going on in their lives.

She dodged Will’s kick just in time, twisting her body to the side to avoid Kym waiting behind her.

“And are you sure what you plan to do is not illegal?” Kym asked, stepping in synch with Will as they charged at Lauren. She jumped back, dancing with them around the improvised ring in the basement of the Sinclair Manor.

“As long as we don’t get in the way of the police, I don’t see the problem,” Lauren replied.

“It’s risky,” Will claimed, throwing a punch in Lauren’s direction. “One false step and you’ll be on the police’s radar.”

“That’s why we _won’t_ take any false steps,” Lauren huffed, having ducked and rammed her shoulder into Will’s midsection. He grabbed her sides and pushed her off into Kym, who wrapped her arms around Lauren’s waist and neck. Lauren yelped as she was dragged backward before hooking her hands through Kym’s arms and hurling the blue-haired sergeant over her head. Kym shrieked as she hit the mat, Will helping her up immediately.

Kym laughed. “That was a good one!”

“Thank you,” Lauren chuckled. She balanced her weight into her right foot and swung for a roundhouse kick to Kym. Kym caught her ankle and pulled hard. Lauren almost screamed as she fell down, Kym putting a foot on her chest to keep her from getting up. Lauren huffed, accepting the defeat. Will was sipping water off to the side, amused at the sight of Lauren falling on her back.

“Great job, both of you.”

Kym rolled her eyes. “Thank you, _instructor_ , that’s _so_ nice of you. What would I do without your _valuable_ input!”

“I was trying to compliment you two!”

“Try harder, next time,” she stepped away from Lauren, snatching her own water bottle as she mocked Will’s words. “ _Great job, both of you._ What kind of lame compliment is that? No wonder you’re still single.”

Lauren burst out laughing and took the hand Kym offered her, the three of them leaning against the table on the side of the room as they sipped their water. Stopping the bickering that was about to ensue judging by Will’s utterly offended expression, she picked up where she had left off:

“As I was saying, I’d be worried about getting in trouble if I planned to make mistakes,” she shrugged, her smirk dripping with confidence. “Plus, we’ll only be doing some investigations; we don’t plan to do much besides that. We’ll combine our resources to see if we can find the culprit on our own.”

Lauren wasn’t particularly fond of lying to her friends. If it had been entirely up to her, she’d tell them the whole truth, but unfortunately, it wasn’t just her well-being alone on the line. Kieran had made it very clear that he didn’t want his associations with the Reapers to be known, especially not to people he didn’t know well enough to trust. It didn’t matter how much she told him they were of her complete trust; he had insisted.

> _“Why did you tell_ me _, then?” she had asked Tuesday night, hand planted firmly on the countertop where Kieran had laid out the information he had at hand for them to revisit over fresh cups of coffee and tea. “You didn’t know me that well, either, so why would you trust me? Correction: you_ still _don’t know me that well”_
> 
> _He smiled at her, that pleased grin that she only knew him to pull, almost like the little devils that would perk on your shoulders and whisper mischief in your ear, only to laugh at the misfortune they caused. She understood, at that moment, what he meant by “making a deal with the devil.”_
> 
> _“I’ve met with you enough times to know you’re just as crooked as me,_ darling _,” he drawled, lazily resting his weight on the counter as he stared straight into her eyes from under black lashes. “You’re desperate for the truth and willing to go to the extremes to get it. Fret not, I don’t judge. Rather, I’m not_ qualified _to judge.”_
> 
>  _“I’m_ not _desperate,” Lauren hissed back, refusing to allow him to intimidate her because she knew that the day she allowed herself to back down, she’d be hopelessly doomed._
> 
> _Kieran laughed. “Yes, you are. I don’t know what you’re after, but you’ve been stuck in a loop for long enough that you’d go as far as making a questionable deal with someone you met a month ago.” He stopped twirling his finger in the air, grinning at her. “I think that’s quite a desperate thing to do, don’t you?”_
> 
> _She leaped off of the stool, ready to attack him, but Kieran stepped backwards to his full height, shaking an accusatory finger at her as he continued. “Now, we wouldn’t want an assault and battery charge, would we? Anyhow, we’re not talking about you here. You’re not telling your friends about Lukas and me, and that’s final. I’ll tell them when I decide that it’s the right time to do so, but until then, you will_ not _be revealing a single thing to them.”_

She had begrudgingly agreed since ultimately, it was not her secret to tell and Kieran had made it crystal clear that if she did anything against his interests, he would step back and let her burn alone. Kieran was adamant about protecting this secret and insisted that he wasn’t about to sacrifice what he had worked so hard for, despite not elaborating on what he meant by that.

All Kym and Will knew was that she had asked Mr. White to help her find the assassin that killed Hugues Hermann, in hopes that they would give her a lead about her parents’ murderer –or even better, that they were the same person. He had allegedly agreed because she had convinced him that Lukas would not truly be seen as innocent in society, both due to his attorney’s reputation and the fact that the true murderer hadn’t been found. Lauren reassured herself that this wasn’t a _complete_ lie but rather simply not the complete truth; it was no secret that Beyond cared deeply for this particular client.

She didn’t mention the Reapers once, not even in passing.

Now, Lauren wasn’t naive. She _knew_ who she was friends with, and William and Kym were far from stupid. They didn’t make it to where they were today simply by luck, and she knew that they suspected that there was more going on than what Lauren was letting on. However, she had two things to her advantage: William’s almost blind trust in Lauren to be responsible and Kym’s flexible outlook on life. If the two of them found out, Kym would likely be able to convince Will into leaving it alone, and he’d likely convince himself that she actually knew what she was doing.

Her secret was relatively safe – and so was Kieran’s.

“And if you _do_ find the culprit, what do you plan to do?” Will questioned, an eyebrow slowly lifting closer to his hairline.

Lauren sighed. “Turn him in to the police, I guess. That’s why I want your help. I need you two to help me from the inside, to get me the information as you’ve done all this time, and to keep an eye on anything related to the murder that won’t reach my ears through March.”

Kym grinned. “So, basically… You want us to be your eyes and ears on the streets?”

Lauren grinned back. “That’s right.” Then, softening her gaze, she brought her palms together in front of her face. “Would you help me?”

Kym and Will turned to each other, once again falling into that comfortable silence as they seemed to talk with their eyes, a crease forming between Will’s eyebrows as the seconds passed. Lauren wondered how they did it. Would she be able to do that as well if she spent as many hours a day with them as they did with each other? Or was it, perhaps, something that was beyond her reach?

After a few seconds of silent pondering, Will seemed to give in with a tired sigh.

“Yes, of course.” He smiled at Lauren. “We’ll help you.”

Kym grabbed Lauren’s hand, dedicating a beaming smile to her. “Forever!”

Lauren smiled, gripping her hand back. “Forever,” she chuckled. “Thank you, guys.”

“No problem,” Kym claimed, shaking her hand in the air. “Life at the Precinct was getting boring, anyway. It’s about time things started to spice up!”

“There are a few stacks of incomplete paperwork that’d _adore_ this enthusiasm, Ladell.”

"For the love of _God_ , would you leave me alone with the paperwork for _once_? It’s a Friday, and after working hours!”

The door of the basement opened, interrupting the quarrel once again, and Lauren turned to see her Uncle poke his head from the top of the stairs, having apparently just arrived home. He smiled warmly at the trio.

“Good evening, you three! Kym, Will, it’s good to see you again. It’s been almost two months.”

“Good evening, Mr. Sinclair.” Will and Kym replied in chorus.

“Good evening, Uncle Tristan.”

“It’s good to see you again, too.” Kym smiled.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Tristan climbed down half the stairs to see them better. “I can ask the maids to prepare some more food for you.”

“Thank you for the invitation, but I have to decline,” Will replied quickly. “I have to visit my mother tonight, and my father already asked me to join him for dinner.”

“How _is_ Josephine, by the way?” Tristan asked.

From her spot directly next to him, it was evident how Will tensed up a little, but he maintained his polite smile as he nodded. “She’s been stable. The doctors keep seeing her. The finest in Ardhalis, as Father says, so we hope something will work soon.”

“With everything you’ve tried, something is bound to,” Tristan nodded politely. “And you, Kym?”

“My parents are expecting me. Sorry, Mr. Sinclair,” Kym shrugged. “Some other day, maybe!”

“Some other day, dear!” Tristan agreed. “I’ll go back upstairs, then. Please join me for dinner once you’re done here, Lauren!”

“I’ll be there soon, Uncle.”

“You better be,” Tristan hollered from the threshold. “Unless you want Lucy to come fetch you herself!”

Lauren laughed as Tristan disappeared. Throwing a quick glance at the clock on the wall, Will sighed. “I should get going.”

“Before you go–” Lauren took her bag from the floor, digging through its contents before finishing out two folded pieces of paper. She handed one to each of them. “–Kieran asked me to invite you two to a celebration dinner at his apartment for Lukas’ case. They’d like the three of us to attend, and this is the address, apparently.”

Kym whistled. “The Silverado? I don’t know much about residences in Ardhalis, but I _do_ know this place is fancy. Is he _that_ loaded?”

“It’s also one of the penthouses,” Will commented, examining the card. “Tomorrow, at six in the evening?”

“Can you two make it? We’ll also be discussing what I told you today.”

“Sure thing,” Kym chuckled, waving the card in front of her face. “I’d never pass the opportunity to be in such an elegant place.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Tell him we’ll be there.”

Kym wriggled her eyebrows. “Have you been there before, Lauren?”

Lauren pushed Kym away, playfully smacking her arm as she laughed to hide her awkwardness.

“Of course not, Kym.”

* * *

There were few occasions where Kieran’s apartment was this lively and it always involved the same two people. Whenever they came over, Lukas and Lila would light up the place with laughter and the smell of something cooking in the oven, making the apartment feel like home.

“I still can’t _believe_ that you–”

“Lukas, stop,” groaned his wife, chopping up the potatoes on a cutting board set on the kitchen island. “You _know_ why we’re doing this; the least you could do is be thankful.”

“I _know_ ,” he grumbled, glaring at Kieran. “I just can’t believe that _he_ decided this was a good idea. Do you _know_ how heavy those bags of seafood were?” 

Kieran chuckled, stirring the sauce for the scallops as it simmered on the stove. “You know, Lukas, she could have just left it up to the jury instead of dismissing the case so early. Or she could have put up a fight had I asked for a directed verdict.” 

“Oh, yes, I know I should be _so_ grateful,” Lukas jested, making a wild gesture to the kitchen island. “But this? This feels like an exaggeration. This is ridiculous–”

Lila slammed the knife into the cutting board, turning towards Lukas with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. Her black teacup skirt tangled between her legs at her sudden twirl. Lukas gulped, turning back towards the pineapple he was slicing. 

“ _What_ were you saying, darling?”

“Nothing. I was saying how ridiculous pineapples are to cut,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“That’s what I _thought_ you were saying,” she stated triumphantly, grinning as she looked over at Kieran. “I’m glad you asked Ms. Sinclair. Do you know when she’ll be arriving?” she asked as she arranged her white sleeves.

Kieran glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, humming as he studied the delicate timepiece’s cogs. “In a little less than half an hour, I suppose. She mentioned she’d come with her friends, and I told them to get here by 6:30.” 

Lila clucked her tongue, tugging her hair tie out of her hair to redo her bun. “The mushrooms need to go into the oven then, otherwise they won’t be done in time. Kieran, are the spinach and bacon done yet?”

Kieran spun around, barely missing Lukas with the pan. “Just in time. Make sure you salt the mushroom first, too.” He tapped Lukas’ shoulder, throwing a towel over his own shoulder. “Make sure you put the wine on the fridge door instead of near the back. My fridge has been running cold, and I don’t want the wine to be too chilled when they get here.” 

“Alright,” Lukas replied, setting the sliced pineapples aside with a relieved grumble. “Can you hand me the towel, though? I accidentally spilled a bit of the vinaigrette.” 

Kieran simply leaned backwards, arching his back so Lukas could tug it off of his shoulder. “Say, Lila, you mentioned something about the crumble not working out? Do you still want me to look at it, or did you sort it out?” 

Closing the oven with her foot as wiped her hands off on her apron, she nodded. “Turns out I just wasn’t toasting it for long enough, so that’s why it kept falling apart. I must have forgotten, it’s been a long time since I last worked with a crumble,” she sighed. “It’s been a long time since I could bake happily, to be honest. I missed doing it.”

“I think you need a vacation,” Lukas claimed, eyes fixated on the bell peppers he was cutting.

Lila chuckled. “Soon, dear, soon. You know _someone here_ can’t get his life together without my help.”

“And I’m not ashamed to admit it,” Kieran laughed as he began putting the appetizers together, carefully stacking the ingredients on the tiny crostinis. “My life would be a mess without you, sweetpea.”

“Yes, yes, you’re useless, that much is clear.”

“Lukas!”

“He’s not wrong!” Kieran cackled, almost spilling the vinaigrette, barely catching it before it toppled.

Lila huffed, pointing dangerously at her husband. “Watch it, _darling_ , or you’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Now _that_ is a heartless thing to say, especially in front of my best friend. Isn’t that right, Kieran?”

Kieran wrapped an arm around Lukas, grinning at Lila. “Look at this poor man, Lila, he wouldn’t hurt a soul!”

“Get your arm off me if you want to keep it.”

“See? A harmless kitty!”

Lila sighed, shaking her head but unable to contain the smile drawing itself on her face. “Truly, you two still behave as children.”

“You love us,” Kieran stated, jumping back when Lukas tried to elbow him away from his shoulder, laughing wholeheartedly.

Lukas scoffed, a tiny smile curling on his face as well as he dropped the bell peppers into the salad bowl. “I’m afraid I feel responsible for your well-being, you man-child.”

“I think there is a word for that. Lila, can you remember?”

Lila took the salt, declaring with great fanfare: “That’s called worrying over your friend, my wise pal!”

“Exactly!”

“I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t,” Kieran laughed, leaning into Lukas’ shoulder. “You love me. But don’t worry, old friend, I don’t need grandiose displays of affection to know you do.”

“Keep using me as an armrest and you might find out how _grandiose_ my displays of affection can be with this knife.”

Kieran simply stuck his tongue out to Lukas and blew him a kiss, pouring oil into the skillet. “Anyway, as I was saying, they should be here anytime now. And don’t worry, Lukas. You don’t know Lauren that well, and I don’t know Kym and William that well either. It’s a perfect opportunity to make new friends.”

The doorbell rang before Lukas could make any other complaint. Kieran shrugged, gesturing with his head at the salmon in the pan. “Do _be a dear_ and open the door, would you?” 

Lukas swore under his breath as he mocked Kieran, which earned him a swift kick to the shin from Lila, who was folding the mousse together. 

“OU–” he yelped, stumbling towards the door. He dusted off the sleeves of his knitted sweater before yanking the door open with a deep sigh to prepare himself for what was to come. He was greeted by Kym, who stood inches from his face. 

“ _Congratulations_ , Lukas!” she screeched, bounding towards him. He backed away quickly, almost knocking into the cabinet Kieran kept his collection of white slippers in.

“Thank you, but–”

She pulled back her arms, flinging them around Lauren instead. “Right, no bodily contact other than Lila.” 

He smiled awkwardly at them, hurrying back towards Lila, who had taken over the salmon station. Kieran took his place by the door, dropping three pairs of slippers on the floor. “Thanks for coming, all of you.” 

Will smiled politely, reaching out to shake Kieran’s hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. White, thank you for having us.” 

“I hope you and Ms. Ladell–”

“Kym, please.” 

“Right, I hope you and Mr. Hawkes–” Kieran tried again, once again being cut off before being allowed to finish.

“Sorry. Mr. Hawkes makes me think of my father,” Will stated awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Will is fine.”

“Or _Willame_. Just don’t call him ‘William’ or ‘Mr. Hawkes,’” Kym noted, having slipped her shoes next to Lauren’s heels. 

“Alright,” Kieran chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind. You can call me Kieran, by the way, there’s no need for formalities. What I was going to say is that I hope all of you like seafood, since that’s the majority of the menu tonight.” 

All three of them nodded in synchrony, taking turns to hang their coats on the rack by the door as Lauren stepped into the apartment, sending Kieran a knowing look before making her way to the kitchen island.

Kym took a moment to appreciate the surroundings, taking in the magnificent interior of Kieran’s apartment, her eyes roaming through every detail: from the bookshelves nearly overflowing with titles to the gorgeous painting hanging above the fireplace and its real-life copycat sitting innocently on the coffee table. Will, however, found himself floating towards the record player, scanning over the large box of records Kieran kept. A record was currently on, playing soft jazz to help with the merry mood of the room. Will took the empty case and examined the cover.

“Say, Mr.–” he paused, correcting himself. “Sorry, _Kieran_. I didn’t know you enjoyed jazz, too?” 

Kieran grinned as he set the silverware on the dining table. Lauren had set her purse on the sofa and was standing across the table from Kieran, diligently setting down plates as he placed the cutlery next to each place setting. “I quite enjoy music, but I find jazz particularly relaxing.” 

Lauren snickered, leaning towards him slightly. “ _Where was the fancy music when_ I _was here the past two times, huh?_ ”

He winked discreetly at her, addressing Kym instead. “You’ve been looking out that window for a while. It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” 

Kym turned towards him, nodding quickly with her thumbs hooked to her suspenders, her smile bright and dazzling like that of a child. “Absolutely! If I lived in a place like this, I’d spend all day looking out onto the city. It’s stunning! You can see the river from here, and a little bit of the Palace too.”

Lila chuckled, weaving through the apartment towards the table, appetizers in hand. In the kitchen, Lukas was busy finishing the salad, grumbling under his breath at the stains the vinaigrette had left on his sleeves. Lila offered the appetizers to Lauren, saying: “Trust me, he spends _forever_ looking out of that window. In fact, I believe he’s painted various parts of what you can see through the windows.”

“You paint, Kieran?” 

“Just a bit,” he smiled. “In fact, I painted that work you see hanging on top of the fireplace.”

Will blinked in surprise, accepting a crostini from Lila’s tray with a pleased smile. “That is impressive. That painting is truly beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Kieran nodded, subtly heading towards the table, where Lauren had set down the last folded napkin. “Anyhow, I didn’t invite you just to advertise my own tastes. Please, sit.” 

He stood next to one of the heads of the table, pulling out the chair in front of him. “Ms. Sinclair?” 

Lauren nodded, locking eyes with him before accepting the seat. Kieran smiled, gesturing for 

Lukas to sit directly across from Lauren. “Sit, you’ve been in the kitchen all day. I’ll go help out Lila.” 

“ _Thank you,_ ” Lukas grumbled, hanging his apron. “I can’t begin to count the number of shrimps I’ve cleaned today.”

Lauren smiled, tugging Kym to sit next to her. Seeing Lukas look so relaxed was quite shocking, considering that she had grown used to seeing him frown in anxiety in the courtroom. Kym and Will hadn’t lied when they said there was a perpetual black cloud hovering above his head, but right now, he looked much more at ease than she had ever seen him. Of course, every time she’d seen him, his freedom was in the line. Quite hard to relax with that prospect bothering you.

“I’m sure everything is delicious. Thank you so much, again, for having us.” 

Lila plopped the skillet into the sink, grinning at Kieran as he adjusted his rolled-up sleeves, protecting the light blue fabric from further staining. “We hope you like it. You all played such a big role in clearing Lukas’ name, so we wanted to thank you for that,” she chuckled, picking up the paella as Kieran took the wine out of the fridge. “I might have gotten a _little bit_ too excited, but I don’t get to cook for this many people so often. Here’s the seafood paella!”

There was a wave of wonder from the three guests as Lila placed the paella in the middle of the table, four wooden spoons ready for use. Kieran took the chore of serving each person wine, pouring each cup while conversing with them, skipping Lila who had chosen to drink water. She was never very good with alcohol. When he finally arrived at Lauren, he leaned closer to her to hide the whisper from the rest of the table chatting as he poured her drink.

“What did your friends say?”

“They’re with us,” she whispered back, hiding her words behind a portobello appetizer she pretended to be examining. “And just as promised, I didn’t tell them anything you didn’t want me to say.”

“Good. It seems you _can_ keep a secret, _darling_ ,” Kieran stepped back, taking his seat at the head of the table at last and pouring himself wine as well before placing the bottle in the ice Lila had prepared. Once everyone was settled, he stood up, attracting the eyes of the room to him. “First of all, thank you so much for joining us tonight. I wanted to make a toast for Lukas and Lila,” he smiled at them. “To the best people I could’ve come across, so many years ago. Thank you for everything. This toast is for your happiness, and for Lukas’ freedom, of course.”

The couple smiled at Kieran as they raised their cups, all of them toasting in synch, agreeing with his words. Satisfied, Kieran took his seat again, gesturing to the table. “Alright, let’s begin before the food gets cold!”

* * *

“So as I’m sure Lauren told you, we’re hoping to find the true murderer and clear Lukas’ case once and for all,” noted Kieran, picking up a piece of the salmon with his fork. So far, the dinner had developed without any inconveniences. The light-hearted conversation rolled easily, Lila’s and Kym’s presence of amazing help to keep it going, and amidst stories of life at the APD or debate of whether red wine was better than white wine or not, they had finished the entree and replaced it with the main dish of honey garlic salmon with asparagus and the colorful salad Lukas had fused over for so long.

“Kym, you haven’t had a single vegetable,” scolded Will as he dumped salad onto her plate. Next to them, Lauren snorted at Will’s actions, comparing him under her breath to a worried mother. Unaware or willfully ignorant of Lauren’s comment, he continued: “Yes, she told us. She also mentioned that we’d be getting a more detailed explanation of what you were hoping us to do, so we can make sure we’re all on the same page.” 

Kym groaned, grudgingly munching on the salad that had now blanketed the right side of her plate. “Come _on,_ Will. I just finished all my asparagus; I wanted to eat _salmon_. Now you’ve gone and turned my plate into a tropical rainforest. But yes, Kieran, please continue.” 

Kieran nodded, lifting asparagus from the large grey plate. “We know for sure that the Vipers were involved. As Eleanor noted in her testimony, it is believed that a man, under the guidance of a Viper, killed Hugues Hermann. We don’t have many leads past that currently, and that’s where you two come in.” 

Kym stared at Kieran, a spoonful of spinach and avocado stuck into her mouth. She swallowed before replying: “So for now, all we need to do is make you aware of our leads?” 

Will dabbed at his mouth. “That’s fine since we currently do that for Lauren anyway. Though, I am curious. Do you know anything already?” 

Keiran caught Lauren’s eye before responding slowly. _Don’t say a word,_ his eyes warned. “ We don’t really know, but we’re hoping that you’ll find something that will help us out. It was evident that Lukas was framed.” 

Lila nodded, smiling kindly at everyone. “Anyhow, thank you all for being willing to do this. It means so much to us.” She nudged Lukas in the ribs, causing him to look up from his salmon.

“Yes, thank you,” he mumbled, raising his glass. 

Lauren went to hold her own wine glass, which in a moment of distraction she had placed to her left instead of to her right. However, Kieran had set his wine glass directly next to hers and had knocked into her hand as he reached for his simultaneously. Recoiling from the sudden contact, Kieran knocked over both their glasses, spilling them onto her black turtleneck. She squirmed in her seat, letting out an irritated grunt as she slid away from the dripping edge of the table.

All eyes were on the two of them as Lauren frantically dabbed at her top with her napkin and Kieran apologized profusely, picking up the two glasses and returning with a dish towel for the wine. 

“I’m _so_ sorry about that,” he repeated, soaking up the spilled wine.

“It’s– It’s fine–” Lauren sighed, frantically rubbing the napkins on her sweater. “I… I guess this is how karma works.”

The rest of the present at the table snorted in amusement, Lila taking more napkins from the table and offering them to Lauren. “Good thing it was white wine, then, at least it doesn’t stain.”

“Not like coffee,” Lukas murmured.

Kieran laughed. “I guess none of us will be able to forget that. Go ahead and clean up in the–”

Lauren was already halfway to the bathroom, dismissing Kieran’s words with a wave of her hand as she approached the partially obscured door to the bathroom. “Already on it.”

Kym turned to Kieran, clearly amused at the situation but deciding to wait for Lauren to return before asking.

When she returned a few moments later, she was met with three questioning grins and a pair of raised eyebrows. 

“What?”

Kym snickered, perching her head on Lauren’s shoulder. “I _thought_ you said that you hadn’t been here before. How did you know where the bathroom was? You didn’t even ask.”

Lauren glanced over at Kieran, who had been pouring two new glasses of wine. “I haven’t. I simply guessed.” 

Lukas spoke up, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Right, normal people would _guess_ that there’s a bathroom door behind an overflowing bookshelf.” 

She rolled her eyes, praying that her face wasn’t flushing. “Mr. Randall, are you _really_ going to antagonize the person who dismissed your charges?” 

Kieran jumped in, nodding in agreement. “Perhaps Ms. Sinclair here is just incredibly observant and intuitive.”

Lila raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you _complimenting_ her?” she teased. 

Kym squealed, giggling in her seat. “My best friend is _finally_ getting–” 

Before she could finish, however, Will had pulled her into his chest, wrapping her upper body in his arms as he patted her hair. Kym released an indignant huff from behind Will's forearm, but he simply ignored her. “Sorry about that, she’s a little… _Unfiltered_ when she gets excited. This happens to be one of the only effective ways of getting her to be quiet.” he chuckled. "Must be the wine."

There was another set of indignant murmuring from where Kym's head was hidden, this time paired with her hands clawing at Will's sleeve, demanding to be released.

Lila smiled, rising from her seat. “Anyhow, I think we’re all ready for dessert now. I’ll go get the mousse.” Tugging Lukas along with her, the couple hurried towards the kitchen, Lila laughing at whatever Lukas had whispered into her ear.

Kieran stood as well, heading towards the record player. He rifled through the large boxes before tugging out a new record, tucking the jazz record back into its sleeve before placing the fresh one onto the platter. 

Kym’s head popped through her makeshift cage. “I know this one!” 

Will stared down at her, finally releasing her from his grasp. “Do you?” he asked as he started to hum along. 

She nodded, humming just loud enough to drown out Will’s voice. Will chuckled at her, his eyes softening as he allowed the music to soothe him, his head tilting side to side as a tiny smile parted his lips. Unwilling to interrupt the moment, Lila took her seat again, placing the cups of lemon mousse on the table.

Unaware of the attention of the room on them, Kym softly began to sing.

“ _If I wished myself a superpower–_ ”

“ _I would make this moment last for hours_ ,” Will continued, making Kym smile as she picked up the next line.

“ _If I had my way, time would just stand still_.”

“ _Wait for me until I find some magic film_.”

“ _To take a photograph and live inside_.” They finished at the same time, Kym standing and tugging at the sleeve of Will’s green turtleneck to drag him up with her, laughing as he reluctantly stood. The rest of them smiled among themselves, watching as Kym, ever the spontaneous one, wrapped her arm around Will's and made him sway to the soft harmony with her, side to side as they continued to sing in effortless harmony, with her spinning him around in circles.

Lauren giggled to herself, taking a spoonful of her lemon mousse.

Kym and Will made a perfect team, indeed.

Wordlessly, Lila and Lukas stood up hand in hand, taking a spot next to Kym and Will to slow dance to the music. The pairs exchanged glances, smiling at each other as Kym and Will continued to sing.

“ _Don't get me wrong, I'm ready. But will I know what to do when we're no longer two, when us means more than me and you_.”

Lila tucked her head under Lukas' chin, closing her eyes to enjoy the song, her hand gripping Lukas' just a little tighter.

From her seat, Lauren smiled gently at the pairs, her eyes jumping from one to the other, admiring something that was and something that could be. The tenderness of this moment was something to cherish, so she kept quiet; she wouldn't break it, some part of her longing to join but feeling like she'd only third-wheel.

A hand sneaked into her peripheral vision. Lauren turned to see the hand Kieran was offering. He smiled.

“Do you dance?”

“ _I need some way to prove that this was real_.”

Lauren sighed, smiling slightly while taking his hand as they stood up.

“Sure.”

“ _A memory is not enough_.”

They walked over to their friends, her hands lifting to grip his shoulders, and his palms ghosted right above her waist, swaying to the song spilling from Kym's and Will's lips.

“ _I'm scared that I'll forget the way it feels–_ ”

Lauren playfully narrowed her eyes to Kieran. “This is a one-time thing, _Mr. White_.”

“ _To be young–_ ”

Kieran smiled. “Of course, _Ms. Sinclair._ ”

“ _And in love_.”

The six of them swayed to the music. The record was repeated, their words barely above a hushed breath as they enjoyed the moment, worries, for once, forgotten. They chose to focus on being happy and celebrating, to ignore everything else in the world for just a moment.

The camera captures what we focus on. Perhaps it was possible, just for a moment, to focus on the light and allow the darkness to fade into soft edges.

_“If I wished myself a superpower,_

_I would make this moment last for hours._

_If I had my will, time would just stand still,_

_Wait for me until I find some magic film_

_To take a photograph and live inside.”_

* * *

It had been a slow night at the Golden Clover, and the manager had let Eleanor leave earlier than usual, saying that she wouldn’t be much help anyway. She didn’t get the chance to go to bed at a relatively sane hour often, so she gladly took the offer and left the bar, eager to escape the gold lights always shimmering inside the place. It’d give anyone a headache after hours of exposure.

It was still dark out when she closed the door to the Clover and stepped into the back alley. One could say it was a beautiful night: the sky was clear, allowing the stars to illuminate the gloomy alley, the moon joining in on the job of lighting up the city, and the late autumn air bit at her skin, oddly comforting in its harshness.

She had only taken a few steps from the back door of the Clover when she was met with the moonlit figure of a woman. She was gorgeous, yet familiar. An aura of danger exuded from her silhouette, tight pants and heels complimenting the open leather jacket over her blood-red corset. Taking frantic steps away from the woman, she knocked into a second person. Turning around, she saw the man at the bar that night behind her, his pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight, giving him the appearance of a ghost. The hat and scarf still solidly covered his features.

Perhaps he _was_ a ghost. Faceless. Nameless. Haunting.

Eleanor turned to face the woman, her heartbeats picking up their pace as she approached, the clicking of her heels deafening in the silent alley. The same veil obscured her face, making a striking contrast with her cotton-candy pink hair, but this time it had been pulled a little higher to reveal lips curved into a sadistic smile.

“Good evening, mademoiselle Zhang.”

“Leave me alone,” Eleanor gulped, her voice and legs shaking. “Leave me alone, or I’m going to scre _–_ ”

There was a flash of silver and gold.

It burnt. It _burnt_ . Her neck was on fire, her entire body was shaking, and her legs gave way under her as her hands desperately pressed on the wound on her neck. When she pulled her hand away, it was coated in sticky velvet, running through her fingers like a chocolate fountain. The woman caught her, hugging Eleanor close to her body, her hands tenderly brushing her hair and shushing her like one would do to comfort a child. The sweet smile on her face as she stared into Eleanor’s eyes felt utterly _disgusting_ . She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t talk, she couldn’t _breathe–_

Her last breath didn’t go through her nose or mouth but instead, through the gaping slit in her neck.

Dropping the body against the nearby wall, the assassin wiped her blade on Eleanor’s coat before sheathing it once again. Belladonna Davenport looked up from her nails, sauntering forwards to trail her fingertips against the man’s shoulders.

“And _that_ is how you get rid of complications,” she hissed.

“Are we just going to leave her here?” the man asked, his nose scrunched to the corpse sitting against the wall, her eyes with tears of blood still wide open. He approached her, lightly pulling her eyelids closed with his gloved fingers.

Belladonna rolled her eyes at his action but otherwise said nothing. “Yes, we’re leaving her here. Let her be a message.” she beckoned the man to follow her, disappearing into the shadows opposite to where she had come from, the man following close behind. She smiled wickedly at him.

“Let them remember _who_ they decided to mess with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes _Arc 1: Ardhalis City VS Lukas Randall_! What a journey!
> 
> Giggle here! We’re so happy all of you have made it this far into the story with us, and we’re incredibly thankful for everyone’s support! Arc 1 is over, but the story sure isn’t, so stick around for Arc 2!
> 
> The authors will take a quick **two-week break**. We’re really excited to continue, but we also need to prepare everything for Arc 2 (and attend to real-life responsibilities). However we'll stick around Discord and social media, so you'll be seeing us!
> 
> There's the [transcript](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831047/chapters/66713341), which might be helpful later
> 
> As for the chapter, I hope everyone enjoyed this more light-hearted one! Yeah we ended it with a murder but _details_. Eleanor was never safe to begin with. Now that she's dead we can reveal that she was a cameo of our lovely sister Elle (pigeosatdawn). The bartender was in fact a man in the original plan XD
>
>> Us: Hey, Elle. Do you want to make a cameo?  
> Elle: OF COURSE I DO!!  
> Us: Okay, do you want to be alive or de-  
> Elle: DEAD.
> 
> We _did_ tell yall that you had not seen the last of Belladonna ;)))
> 
> Oohhh and mystery man makes an appearance too, who could it be? 0.0 We're eager to hear theories if you have any ;))
> 
> (We're feeding everyone Lula, Kywi, and Lauki, enjoy <3)
> 
> ALSO THE _AMOUNT_ OF STUFF WE DID FOR THIS CHAPTER XD. We came up with a menu for the dinner, we picked out clothes for each of the characters, the track took about _three days_ of trial and error, aligning the songs with the scenes, and we even looked up a clock for Kieran. May of these we couldn't even describe in detail. If you guys want to see any of it, go ahead and ask XD
> 
> Additionally, as a thank you for over 3000 hits and 150 kudos, we'd like to host a Q & A (thank you Peachie for the excellent idea, we got it from you)! Ask us anything (about us or about Moonlighters), and we'll answer if it's not too personal (we won't be giving you our coordinates AHAH) or too spoiler-ish. Both of us will be answering each of the questions!
> 
> Thank you so much everyone for everything! We'll see you in the comments and in Arc 2! <3


	19. Predicted Promotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “William,” she muttered. She never called him William. She _knew_ he hated to be called William unless it was something serious. Will stood up, approaching her in apprehension even before she continued: “Look at this.”
>> 
>> He knelt down next to her, staring at what had caught her attention, before paling as well.  
> 

[A t age twenty-six, William Hawkes was the newly-appointed Captain of the 11th Precinct’s APD.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831047/chapters/70540002)

The ceremony in itself was simply for the press. Of course, his father was there, robotically reciting the mandatory speech with false enthusiasm as if he wasn’t promoting his own son, apparently stone-hearted even as he pinned the medal on William’s new uniform. Everything about him as he posed for the pictures that would show up on tomorrow’s papers was mechanical, tedious, and done quite quickly. Will barely had time to congratulate himself on his promotion before he was flooded by a roomful of reporters asking twice the amount of questions he could answer. By the time they released him, Stefan was nowhere to be found.

There were half-hearted congratulations with various degrees of animosity from the other captains and his superiors, many of them skeptical that the position had been passed off to someone so young. Kym would later assure him that they were probably just envious that he was, for once, a captain with no wrinkles, making the rest of them look ancient, to which he would reply that she was going to be the cause of his premature wrinkling. It seemed that to anyone but his friends, his achievements were for naught. After nearly an hour of meaningless conversations and hollow compliments about his abilities, Will finally managed to excuse himself and make his way to the 11th’s Patrol and Investigation Unit, seeing that their opinions were the only ones that mattered to him. His coworkers were crowded around Kym and Lukas, who had also been promoted to Lieutenant and Sergeant, respectively. It was a surprise Lukas’ promotion had been approved, but after being cleared of charges and passing the sergeant exam with flying colors, there was little room for discussion on how much of a help he’d be in the position. There was possibly nobody more qualified in the 11th to fill the spot Kym was leaving.

On the other hand, it was absolutely no surprise at all that Kym had been promoted. However eccentric and annoying she was, no one could deny her aptitude that she was nearly overqualified for the position. She was responsible (when she wanted to be, which happened to be anytime Will wasn’t near, apparently), was capable of keeping a level head in stressful situations, and had stunning hand-to-hand combat and firearms abilities. With her kind heart and bright spirit in charge of a patrol unit, it would likely be much livelier and effective.

Detective March was the first to congratulate him as he stepped through the door with a solid pat between Will’s shoulder blades. He grinned in thanks, grateful that he could always rely on Oliver March to make his victories _just_ that much sweeter. The man was a treasure for the APD, both in skill and personality, and as he stepped aside, the rest of the officers, detectives, and forensic analysts took turns congratulating Will before stepping aside to let him get to his friends.

Before he knew how, however, he was nearly tackled to the ground by a ball of sapphire and enthusiasm known as Kym Ladell as she hurled herself onto his back, hugging him from behind with an excited squeal that ricocheted through his ear. Will winced at the high pitch but automatically reached for her knees to keep her from falling. At Lauren’s demands for her to “stop treating Will like a jungle gym” and to “behave in front of their superiors,” Kym had hopped off of Will’s back, continuing to bounce on her spot besides Will.

“Congratulations, _Captain_!” she teased, saluting jokingly before pulling at the sleeves of his new uniform. “Fancy. Looks better on you than it looked on Hermann.”

Will arched an eyebrow at her. “Is that a compliment?”

Kym scoffed. “I try to be nice and _this_ is how you act?”

Lauren laughed, approaching them to hug him and peck his cheek. “Congratulations, Will. Kym’s right, you look good in that uniform.”

“Thank you, Lauren.”

“Oh, sure, _she_ compliments you and you thank her,” Kym rolled her eyes, unable to hide the amused smile on her face. “ _I_ do and you get cocky.”

“And thank you too, Kym,” Will laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the other arm hooking Lauren’s arm with his. “Congratulations as well, _Lieutenant_ . And _Sergeant_ ,” Will smiled at Lukas. “Congratulations to you too, Lukas.”

Lukas tilted his head in silent acknowledgment, Lila still hanging from his arm. “Thank you. It feels a little overdue, though. I feel like I should’ve stripped Ladell of the position a while ago.”

“Excuse you!” Kym gasped. “You didn’t _strip me_ of the position! _I_ handed it over to you!”

Lukas snarled at her. “You didn’t _hand me_ anything, Ladell, I won this rank myself.”

“That’s no way to address your superior!”

“I’d _strangle_ _you_ if I could.”

“It’s nice to know two months have passed and nothing has changed,” Kieran chuckled, shaking Will’s hand. “I already congratulated the others. Congratulations, Will, you deserve this.”

Lila elbowed Lukas, causing him to double over. “You literally _just_ got off of being accused of murder. Can you be nice for _just_ a minute?”

Snickering at the couple, Lauren continued, nodding in agreement. “He sure does,” she noted. “I’m surprised you stayed as Lieutenant for almost five years and didn’t get promoted sooner. You’ll probably be promoted again soon! Amazing, Will, if I must say so.”

Will grinned appreciatively back at her, but before he could get a word out, Kym scurried from under his arm and stood proudly in the middle of the group, her finger raised as if she were about to state the response to the meaning of life.

“Now, since sappiness is boring, why don’t we go tonight to get some drinks to celebrate?”

“We have work tomorrow,” Lukas grumbled.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” Lila objected apologetically, exchanging a knowing glance with her husband. “Maybe at a restaurant? I do agree this all calls for a celebration.”

“Or we could make some dinner plans, like last time,” Kieran suggested. “At my place? This Friday, maybe?”

“I think we have Thursday night free?” Lila turned to Lukas to confirm, who nodded.

“Oh! We’ll have a potluck this time, so nobody has to cook such a large meal again!” Kym suggested.

Lauren winced. “I’m alright with that, but I’ll get the drinks. Don’t make me cook, unless you want indigestion.”

“I’ll cook something for the main course,” Kieran offered as he nodded at Lauren, amused at her embarrassment. 

“I suppose we’ll bring appetizers,” Lukas grumbled, Lila nodding animatedly beside him.

“And I’ll get the dessert!” Kym declared with a flourish.

Will blinked twice, thinking hard about what he could offer. “I can bring an entree if you want. Or maybe some salad?”

“A salad should be enough,” Kieran nodded. “You’ll be quite busy these days, I believe.”

“That is… true,” Will sighed. “Hermann left so abruptly, and he left behind bucket loads of work for me to do. Plus, I still have to clear out the office.”

“I’ll help you!” announced Kym. “I am _here to serve_.” 

* * *

“One would think that since the office would be occupied soon someone would have thought of airing this place out,” Kym groaned as she pushed windows open. “It’s dreadful here! Isn’t it the second day of cleaning already? Or perhaps the third?”

“Third, Kym. We began after the promotion ceremonies on Monday,” Will responded, dropping his coat on the chair and frowning at the dust that rose with the landing. “Has no one cleaned this place in three months? It didn’t seem so bad before.”

“Most likely,” Kym sighed, rolling up the sleeves of her uniform. “It’s such a mess, really. The old furniture kept everything relatively hidden, and now that we’ve moved most of it…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “A shame you can’t bring over your maids to do it for you.”

“Quit it with the remarks about my family’s wealth, would you?” Will hissed, rolling up his sleeves too before unbuttoning the vest and dropping it with the coat. “I can do things for myself, thank you very much.”

Kym chuckled, taking a look around the office. Hermann’s personal things had been cleared out, packaged away, and sent to his family, leaving the office with bare walls and shelves. Even the ever agonizing potted plant he had in a corner was gone. She wondered for a moment if they had thrown it out or sent it to Mrs. Hermann as well, since Hermann insisted on keeping it despite its obvious wilting. Their voices echoed gently through the emptiness of the room, bouncing off of the desk and bookshelves. Kym carefully ran her finger over the desk, scowling at the layer of dust that collected on her fingertip and under her nail.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Kym declared, wiping her finger on her pants. “I’ll go ask the janitor for some brooms and rags. You can start thinking of what you want to move.”

Will frowned. “Move?”

Kym twirled on her spot, her arms pointing to the room. “You don’t plan to move things around a little bit?”

“No, I think this looks fine already.”

“Suit yourself,” Kym shrugged, walking past Will to exit the room. “If you want to keep the boring layout, so be it.”

“Hey!”

Her laughs reverberated from the hallway, leaving him chuckling to himself at her remarks. Somehow, she managed to carry a humor that brightened even the darkest of days. He knew that Kym wasn’t any different from Lauren or himself in regards to pain and tragedy, having lost a lot herself. It had been years since she had dared to open up about it, on a cold night when tensions were high after a new hire had pranked her by hiding away her pocket watch. That was the only time Will had ever seen her suppress tears and truly panic, jolting him so deeply in his core that he felt the urge to intervene when the stupid man wouldn’t tell her where he had hidden it. Will would never forget what she had told him that night as they sat side by side on the steps, Kym cradling the pocket watch to her chest as she pressed her eyes to the inside of her sleeve to keep the tears from trailing down her face. It was perhaps the first of a small handful of times he had seen the _true_ Kym, unobscured by silly comments and an uncanny obsession with watermelons.

The very next day, she had showed up to the office wearing her usual grin and had even laughed with the new hire, but he didn’t fail to notice how she never again dared to leave the pocket watch on her desk where she couldn’t see it.

This made for a surprise when, as he was picking up her coat to put it in a cleaner spot, he felt the pocket watch along the inner pockets. She had never left it that unattended since that incident, and it brought a smile to Will’s face to know that she trusted him enough to leave such a valuable possession with him. 

Kym returned soon after, nearly tripping over her own feet as she hauled two brooms, a duster, a bucket of water, and half a dozen of rags into the room.

“You should have asked for my help,” Will chastised, hurrying towards her to take some of the cleaning supplies. “Or taken more trips.” 

“And _why_ would I do either of those,” mocked Kym, pretending to seriously consider those options. “Come on, we don’t have all day.” 

They divided the chores and quickly got to work, chatting animatedly as Will wiped down the windows and Kym cleaned the bookshelves. Though it was rather warm for a late December day, Will shivered at the air that snuck through the windows, feeling the desperate urge to shut them if it weren’t for the dreadful state of the office.

“Are you– Are you cold, _Willame_?” Kym asked, clearly holding back her laughter as she stared at him rubbing his hands together.

Will grumbled. “Am I not _allowed_ to be cold?”

“It’s not even that cold outside,” Kym snickered, gesturing at her own attire. “Why is it that you seem to be _absolutely_ unable to stand the cold at all?”

“In case you were wondering, I can’t stand heat either,” Will scoffed, dropping the rag on the water with a _plop_. “The windows are clean, by the way.”

He turned around, almost bumping into Kym, who had made her way to his side to lean half her body out of the window. Will panicked, placing the bucket on the nearest surface and quickly grabbing at her arms, pulling her back inside the room with his heart beating furiously in his chest. “ _Are you insane?_ Don’t do that ever again, you’ll give me a heart attack! _Are you trying to kill me?_ ”

“I just wanted to check the weather outside!” Kym laughed, unfazed by the way Will lightly shook her with his grip on her arms. “I can’t believe you! You can’t be cold!”

Will released her, grumbling as he picked up the bucket again, frowning at the tiny puddle of water that had spilled by their feet. “Well, not all of us are made of sunshine.”

Kym froze on her spot, looking down at Will as he knelt down to wipe the floor. Her voice was soft when she asked: “What did you say?”

Will cleared his throat, pretending to focus on the floor to hide the flush that overcame his cheeks as he replied: “Nothing. Go back to cleaning.”

Kym hesitated only for a second before she stepped back and lifted the duster from the desk. She twirled the thing between her fingers as the silence wrapped around them awkwardly before she shook off her stupor and slapped the sturdy surface of the desk.

“This desk is nice! But it’s old. Do you think it’s as old as Hermann was?”

“I couldn’t tell.”

Kym lifted a foot and kicked a side of the desk, startling Will as he looked up to stare at her. But before he could question her on her thought process behind kicking the desk (though he doubted she had one), a piece of it fell down, causing both of them to leap back. Will was sure his soul had escaped his body in that very moment as he watched Kym’s eyes fill with panic, quickly falling to her knees and grabbing the plank of wood that had fallen off.

“What did you do–”

“I wasn’t trying to–”

“You broke the desk–”

“I didn’t! It just fell off!”

Will gestured wildly, running a hand through his hair in anxiety. “After you _kicked_ it!”

Kym turned to the desk, her little hand gripping the long piece of wood for dear life. “I wanted to see if it was–”

She stopped mid-sentence, the blush of embarrassment that had tinted her cheeks leaving in an instant as she stared at the side of the desk with wide eyes, her mouth slowly gaping.

“William,” she muttered. She never called him William. She _knew_ he hated to be called William unless it was something serious. Will stood up, approaching her in apprehension even before she continued: “Look at this.”

He knelt down next to her, staring at what had caught her attention, before paling as well.

Tucked under the desk, right behind where the piece of wood Kym held was supposed to be, was a manila folder wedged between the remaining planks of wood. The narrow compartment held a single folder, which had been stuffed nearly to capacity.

Will grabbed it, yanking it free from the wood and staring blankly at it.

In a corner, in black ink, was the emblem of the Reaper Family.

With panic in her eyes, Kym ran her fingers over the symbol, almost recoiling immediately as if the emblem itself scorched her skin. They stayed there in silence for a few moments, taking in what was before their eyes before distant steps in the corridor slowly approached. Alarmed, Will snatched the wood from Kym’s hands, hissing instructions quietly at her.

“Close that door!” he ordered, quickly working to put the piece of wood back where it belonged. Kym didn’t question him, quick to leap to her feet and hurry towards the blue door and slam it shut, causing both of them to cringe. With a final push, the piece of wood was back where it belonged, and Will opened a drawer of the desk and threw the folder inside as the steps approached the office. Holding their breaths, they waited for the steps to pass, watching the red coats of a group of detectives float past the glass panel in the office door, murmuring between themselves about some case. Luckily, they didn’t spare the office a single glance.

When the steps finally fell silent, Kym and Will released the breaths they didn't even know they were holding. She turned towards Will, who had shakily opened the drawer he shoved the file into, gingerly placing it on the desk as if at any moment, it would come alive and bite him. Kym walked over to him and placed her hands on the dusty surface, and both of them stared down at the file, unsure what to do with this newfound evidence.

“This...this isn’t good,” Will breathed out. “What is this doing here?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to know who this belonged to, Lieu– _Captain_.”

They stared at each other. Will gulped as they wordlessly came to the same conclusion, their eyes shifting from each other to the file as they considered their next step in complete silence. This office previously belonged to a single person. A person, they remembered, that always left the door locked. A person that hated when people walked in unannounced or waited for him inside, but never offered any explanation behind his annoyance at such behaviors.

They thought they could trust that person. They never had a great relationship with him, and he was never particularly liked around the Precinct, his attitude always the reason people walked away from him. But they _thought_ they could trust him, they thought he was as devoted to law and order as them, and yet...

After a long while of consideration, Will finally spoke up.

“We have to give this to the Investigation Unit.”

“No.” Kym stopped him grabbing his wrist when his hand reached to the file. She made him look at her in the eye. “We can’t do that.”

“What do you mean ‘we can’t do that’, Ladell? That’s precisely what we are _supposed to do_.”

“If Hermann was in any way partnered with the Reapers, do you think he’d be the only one?” Kym pointed her arm to the door, her voice hushed as she gripped his hand. “If the _Captain_ was a Reaper all along and we never noticed, how many of them do you think there are outside? How many of them are there in the IU?” she frowned, distraught apparent in her face. “If one of them gives you away and they come after you, what will you do?”

“We can’t just do nothing, Kym,” he muttered, gripping the desk firmly as the layers of what he once believed to be the truth fell away, scattering across the floor. _We trusted him. We mourned his death_.

Kym didn’t seem any less shaken than he was, her weight almost entirely against the edge of the desk as her legs seemed to have been turned partially into jello. Her hands shakily pushed her hair behind her ears, which he only now recognized to be a nervous tic. He hadn’t even noticed that her hair had grown out, long enough to annoy her as the tips caressed her cheeks. Kym batted at the locks of blue, gripping her head as the cogs spun inside.

Suddenly, she bounced off the desk, eyes brightened again as she stood a little straighter, a smile planted on her lips. Kym snapped her fingers in front of his face (for no good reason, really, since his attention was all hers), grinning as she spoke again, patting the file like a beloved pet.

“If we don’t know who to trust _here_ anymore,” she declared, lifting the file. “Then we’ll go to people we _can_ trust.”

“What do you mean, _Lieutenant_?”

She smiled and waved the file in front of his face, pointing to the emblem.

“We _did_ promise to bring someone information, didn’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYEEEE WELCOME BACK!!! Giggle here!
> 
> Those two weeks passed in a blink, I hope yall missed us XD
> 
> Yes, I'm back again for the start of the Arc. Waters said she wanted me to open the Arc this time, and so now I will be here for the odd numbers and she will be here for the even ones. I don't make the rules *shrug*
> 
> William Hawkes finally got the promotion he deserves, everyone you better cheer for our man. And since we're at it, cheer for Kym and Lukas too *wild clapping* And regarding this, we have a surprise for you! We've got that new file you surely saw the link to at the beginning, which will take you to the newspaper article we ~~agonized over for two weeks~~ wrote for this! Of course, our dear APD bunch made the front page <3
> 
> Oh, and did anyone see that coming? 0.0 _Hermann associated with Reapers?_
> 
> We told you we weren't done with the surprises.
> 
> I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE AS EXCITED FOR ARC 2 AS WE ARE!!! We have a _Before Dusk_ planned for this Wednesday instead of a regular update, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Let us know what you think! We love reading your comments! <3


	20. Connective Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Right?” she asked incredulously. “I would have given more but–”
>> 
>> Kieran interrupted her, his eyes fixated on a faraway point before them. “I meant… He got so long as a first-timer?”

L auren loved the sweet aftertaste of victory.

After nearly four months of procedure, 01-D-1520 was finally closed, yet another triumph for prosecutor Sinclair. Procedures against minors were always extended and complicated, and the shrill protests of Duncan Paxton on the day of his arrest for drug possession were practically useless against the stockpile of drugs found under his mattress when he turned 18 mere days after.

She was never fond of Attorney Holton; Lauren always found her constant arrogant scowl and crooked morals insufferable, and after four months of altercation between the two women, it was obvious that neither was planning on backing down. They had encountered each other far too many times and their patience for each other was running paper-thin. Irene Holton didn’t ever hesitate to criticize and spread rumors about Lauren, claiming that her success was built entirely on her uncle’s status as if the years she spent on her studies and early graduation with honors could be invalidated with a nonchalant wave of a hand. Lauren, who was naturally too hot-headed for her own good, had unfortunately found herself unable to resist rising to these taunts, which resulted in a handful of nasty remarks that only soiled her image. 

Holton’s slights only got worse when Lauren rejected her son’s attempts at courtship. She had stormed out of yet  _ another  _ candlelit dinner when the insolent man had decided to practically  _ blame  _ her for still being single. She didn’t think she could be faulted when, after she had already held her retorts when he asked her why she wasn’t dating someone, he had immediately stated the reason was that she intimidated every man with her outspokenness.

_ It’s not  _ my  _ fault that their fragile masculinities can’t withstand a woman that’s their equal. _

Fate had brought them face to face in this case far too late for either of them to do anything about it. The moment Themis’ scales tipped in Lauren’s favor, the look on the public defender’s face was sweeter than any ice cream on the hottest day of summer. The satisfying aftertaste didn’t leave her mouth even as she walked out of the courthouse.

She stopped in the middle of the steps, puffing into her hands as she tried to warm them. The cold was unbearable in late December, and the clouds were packed with snow that fell in tiny handfuls. The city had the dim grey charm of a snowglobe long-forgotten at the back of a bookshelf. Wrapping her coat tighter around her body, Lauren chastised herself for forgetting her gloves as she trotted down the stairs before she registered the silhouette leaning against a lamppost.

Kieran White, clad in a thick brown coat, leaned against the silver post as he cradled a disposable cup between his large hands. His eyes followed the falling snow, tracing their path before they seemed to melt from the heat of his breath. As if he suddenly sensed her presence, he turned, grinning as he pushed himself upright and tossed the cup into a nearby bin.

“What in the world are you doing out here in this cold?” Lauren asked, striding closer to him until they stood nearly at the same height due to the steps bringing her closer to his face.

Kieran laughed under his breath. “Good afternoon to you too, Sinclair.”

“Good afternoon, White,  _ pardon my manners. _ You haven’t answered my question.”

He rocked back and forth on his heels, letting his eyes wander as he swept stray strands of hair out of his face. “I was waiting for you. I knew you were at a hearing and that you’d be done for the day after that, and I figured that since I was already here, we might as well go to my apartment together,” he smirked. “For the dinner with everyone else, of course.”

“What else for?” she drawled, unamused, before shaking her head. “Nevermind, I don’t want to hear you say it. How did you know I’d be done after this?”

“My, haven’t I told? I actually have psychic powers that allow me to– ”

“You think you’re so funny,” Lauren scoffed. “Tell me the truth.”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” he laughed, shaking his head.

“You’ve been trying for two months. I told you: you can’t lie to me. Answer the question for once.”

“ I already told you! ”

“ _ Kieran. _ ”

“Alright, you got me. I called Charlotte. She told me you wouldn’t be back to the office after your hearing today.”

Lauren huffed, hurrying down the remaining steps and smacking his arm once she was next to him. “Stop calling the office to ask about my whereabouts!”

Kieran laughed at her swats, gently gripping her wrists to avoid causing a scene in the middle of the sidewalk, fully aware of how nosy passersby could be. They were, after all, still in front of the courthouse. “I remembered you told me you’d be here today, and I just wanted to be sure before wasting an hour waiting for you.”

“Still, don’t call at my office, especially when I’m not there,” Lauren retorted. She slipped her hands from his grasp, ignoring the way her fingers twitched with the sudden urge to take his hand in hers. The few times she accidentally brushed them, she had noticed how they were always warm, even in the coldest weather. Lauren was on the brink of hypothermia, and he never even had to wear gloves. She tucked her hands into her pockets instead. “You didn’t need to wait for me.”

“I wanted to,” Kieran replied instantly as they began walking down the street. His apartment wasn’t far away, and she had come to learn that he wouldn’t take a cab if he didn’t have to. She didn’t really mind the walks, either. They were good exercise. “Plus, I don’t have anything to do before the dinner, and I wasn’t feeling like going back home just yet.”

“Are you not cold?”

“Not really. I walked around before waiting at the lamppost. Which reminds me!” Kieran dug through his pockets, a playful grin parting his lips as he presented to her three carefully braided flowers. “These are for you.”

“Flowers?” she questioned, her heart skipping a beat at the familiar situation. Lauren had to remind herself that this was a different grinning boy handing her different flowers that were braided rather than weaved into a flower crown. She had to remember that some things were gone forever.

“Ranunculuses,” Kieran claimed, in a tone all too familiar but still somehow vastly different. “These are known as spearworts.” 

She took them in a hesitant hand, caressing the paper-thin yellow petals. It was as if the flowers warmed her hand because she smiled softly down at them, but still, there was something almost sad behind it. “That’s kind of a mouthful.”

“It is.” Kieran snickered gently before biting his lower lip, worry suddenly washing over his face as he examined her reaction. “Do you… Not like them?”

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Lauren responded, trying to reassure him. “It’s just been a long time since I was given flowers. They’re lovely, thank you.”

She resisted the desire to ask for their meanings. She never had the talent to recall everything the different flowers represented, and since there weren’t any of this kind in her mother’s garden, she didn’t see them often enough to remember.

Likely noticing the reminiscent glint in her eyes, Kieran quickly changed the topic. “How was the hearing, by the way?”

Lauren accepted the diversion, a satisfied grin forming on her face. “Ah, it was great! Have you met Irene Holton before?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Believe me, it’s  _ not  _ a pleasure,” Lauren groaned. “That woman is  _ infuriating _ . It was a drug possession case, simple enough if it weren’t for the fact that this boy turned eighteen in the process.”

Kieran winced. “Oh, that  _ does _ sound complicated.”

“ _ Right? _ And on top of it, after the police looked through his room, they found more, this when he was already legally an adult. It was complicated, and Holton had  _ a lot _ to say about me,” Lauren sighed, frustrated as she recalled the attorney’s snide remarks. “But after four months, it’s finally over and the foolish kid got three years. Knowing the system though, he’ll be out in less.”

“For drug possession?”

“Right?” she asked incredulously. “I would have given more but–”

Kieran interrupted her, his eyes fixated on a faraway point before them. “I meant… He got  _ so  _ long as a first-timer?”

Lauren was certain her brain stopped working for a moment when she heard that. She stared at him in shock. “I mean, he’d been arrested for a few petty thefts as a minor, but nothing ever came of those apparently. I’m sure that those three years will knock some sense into him, seeing that he’d probably graduate to a bigger crime without seeing some consequences.”

He shook his head, staring at her with a smile that almost looked pitiful. She hated it.

“Where’d you say he grew up?”

“Greychapel. Why?”

“Have you perhaps considered that the reason he had previous petty theft arrests was that he had no other choice? That he had to steal to eat?” 

“What do you  _ mean  _ he had no other choice?” she asked, chuckling incredulously at the ridiculous discussion. “There’s always a  _ choice _ . This wasn’t a case for him stealing bread or an apple, this was  _ drug possession _ , Mr. White. I’d say he at least had the  _ choice  _ to refuse to keep multiple bags of heroin under his bed” She swiveled around to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you’re trying to tell me someone framed him?” 

Kieran sighed, shaking his head, the forced smile melting as he did. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. From a purely physical perspective, yes, he did choose to use drugs. You didn’t say that it was a drug-dealing charge, right?”

“No, just possession.” Lauren made a square with her fingers to illustrate the size. “There were only three small bags, and he didn’t have anything to suggest he was a dealer.” 

“Thank goodness,” Kieran murmured.

Lauren couldn’t say she was surprised at this turn of events, for she was already accustomed to falling into this kind of debate with him. They had vastly different points of view and stances, so since they had begun collaborating and thus spending time together, it was nothing weird for them to discuss a vast range of subjects. She knew that was what was about to happen judging from the way he took a deep breath before starting again.

“What if we considered a more environmental approach?” he suggested. “While his environment doesn’t make his actions correct, I’m afraid he didn’t have the same chances that kids in wealthier districts had.”

“What do you mean, he didn’t have the same chances? Did he not have the chance to ‘just say no’?” Lauren scoffed. “Last I checked, even though Greychapel’s schools are probably the worst in all of Ardhalis City, they don’t encourage their students to take drugs.”

“Sure,” Kieran agreed, gesturing with his hands.  _ How does he not freeze to death,  _ Lauren marveled, still trying to warm her own frozen digits while he didn’t even look affected by the cold. “What I'm trying to say is that I think it’s a pity that he likely never had anyone in his life to show him the proper path.” 

“Perhaps. It was noted that his mom was a single mother. But my point is that he’s  _ already  _ had brushes against the legal system. He knows that actions have consequences, and I’m sure that regardless of social status if you asked an adolescent his age, they’d be able to tell you that drugs are illegal.”

“Most of the kids in Greychapel are living below the poverty line and might be missing a parental figure, perhaps both. Having a parent that’s around for you and that you can look up to is incredibly important to healthy development,” Kieran countered. “His mother probably wasn’t around enough to  _ actually  _ teach him right from wrong. It’s hard to identify right from wrong when you grow up surrounded by people who do not mind that and growing up in such an environment might make you think it’s not so bad.” 

Lauren hummed, curious. “I suppose that makes sense, sort of. But are you trying to say that just  _ because  _ everyone around you is doing something, even if you know it’s wrong, it’s okay to do it? The fact that you note that he might believe that doing drugs and stealing ‘isn’t so bad’ implies that to some extent, he still understands that it’s bad and has consequences.” 

“Consider this: the consequences might not mean anything to him, or well, not enough. Maybe he thought that drugs and crimes were his only way to put food in his mouth.” Kieran grimaced. “You said so yourself: Greychapel’s schools are horrendous. They’re underfunded, unsafe, and really don’t give many of their students a true chance at upward mobility.”

Kieran rocked back and forth on his feet, waiting for the stream of cars to thin before signaling that they were about to cross the street. He continued: “For many people who get involved with the drug trade, it’s not really a choice they make. It’s the only way they can survive and make money to support themselves and their families.”

“I suppose so, and I understand that. It’s truly a pity that these people don’t have many other options, but that doesn’t change the legality of his actions.” Lauren huffed, struggling to keep up with him as they quickly crossed the street. “Ultimately, he  _ was  _ in possession of drugs, and that is a crime. The law doesn’t really care about everyone’s background. If it did, each case would take forever and would be far from impartial. I don't think that _anything_ would make something illegal _not_ illegal. Even for crimes where the defendant pleads insanity, the action is still illegal. They just aren't accountable for their actions because they weren't in full control of themselves or were unable to tell right from wrong at the time of the crime.”

They hopped over a mound of snow, Lauren mentally groaning as the icicles she called her feet sent a shock through her body on impact. “I’m not condoning what he did,” he clarified, looking over at Lauren. “Definitely not. Nobody should make excuses for someone else’s actions. I  _ know  _ he broke the law, I’m not implying the contrary. But I don’t think that this boy will graduate into becoming a  _ serial murderer _ . I think he needs rehabilitation, not just punishment.” 

“I get what you’re saying,” Lauren admitted. “Putting him behind bars for years on end doesn’t really help him improve at all, but not all addicts can be rehabilitated. Some choose this lifestyle, and it’d just be impossible to help everyone. As much as I’d like to, we don’t have unlimited resources. I get that we don’t have to _protect society from him_ , but perhaps, if you say that his life was as dismal as it was before his conviction, prison might be a safe option for him.”

“But how is–”

“No, I know what you’re going to say,” interrupted Lauren, stopping his words with a raised palm. “What I’m saying is that if he was already living in a shack that was about to crumble at any moment, couldn’t find a decent job in Greychapel, and  _ perhaps  _ felt the need to steal to eat, maybe the few years he’s in prison might help in some way. It probably won’t give him a job, but at least he’ll have a sturdy roof over his head and regular meals.” 

There was something almost sour in Kieran’s expression at her words, in the way he frowned slightly or grimaced. “Perhaps. Having three meals a day inside a prison cell could sound more appealing than fighting for your food on the streets. Maybe some people truly cannot be rehabilitated. They might have given up, maybe they refuse help, maybe they truly believe that drugs are better for them, but that doesn’t mean we should give up on  _ everyone _ . He literally  _ just  _ turned 18, he was just a foolish teenager. There’s a chance for change. Wouldn’t you agree, if you say that we can only help a limited amount of people, that he is one of the people that ‘can’ be helped?” Kieran asked, throwing up air quotes with his fingers.

“Maybe. We can’t ever really know whether or not someone’s going to make the most of their environment or just choose to continue on the path they’re already on. But perhaps there’s a chance.” She nodded slowly, noticing the way his eyes flitted hopefully across her face. She shrugged. “It’s not really up to us anymore, anyway. We can only hope that the prison system does him more good than harm.” 

A nearby street sign informed them that they were only a few blocks from the Silverado when Kieran abruptly stopped, peeked down a narrow alley, and hurried into it almost immediately. 

“Sorry! You can stay there if you wish, I’ll be just a moment.” He yelled the apology over his shoulder as he jogged away from her.

“Wait–” Lauren ran after him, almost screeching as her practically frozen toes pushed against the tips of her heels. “Where are you going?”

She stopped, puffing clouds of warm breath into the air, not expecting what she was seeing before her.

Kieran was crouched down against an archway, grinning at what appeared to be a haphazard bundle. Upon closer inspection, she found that he wasn’t grinning down at kittens in trash bags (right after assault, that had been her second thought as to what had him running); no, Mr. White was smiling at a group of three children who were huddled together, shivering under a thin blanket.

“Hello, sweethearts,” he grinned, patting each of their heads as they murmured their chirpy greetings, getting up. “Why are you guys out here tonight? You normally are at the nearby shelter, are you not? It’s so cold, too. Have you eaten yet?”

The tallest child –a boy who couldn’t be any older than twelve– shook his head, smiling brightly at the attorney. “Nah, we weren’t watching the time. You know how Mr. Brunster is. If you miss the slot, he won’t help you out or anythin’.”

Kieran sighed, sticking a hand in his pocket. “It’s only seven. I wish he’d keep his doors open for longer, but we can’t ask for much when people are volunteering.” Taking out multiple bills, he handed a small pile to each of the children. 

“There should still be a few shops open. Go get yourselves something warm.” 

The smallest child poked her head out from under the thin blanket that they shared, still wrapped around her skinny frame. She was probably around seven years old. She clasped the bills Kieran offered her with starry eyes. “Thank you, sir!” She peeked past him, catching Lauren’s eyes, and she gasped. “You have such pretty hair! Who are you, Miss?”

Kieran swiveled around, smiling at her in surprise. “I see that you’ve followed me. Come on over, meet these sweethearts.” He waved her over, pointing at each of the children in turn. “Georgie, Grace, and Evie say hello to Ms. Lauren.” 

Lauren crouched down hesitantly, right next to Kieran, offering the children a sweet smile.

“Hello, I’m Lauren.” she pulled a strand of hair from behind her ear to show the little girl, who hesitatingly combed through it with her fingers in awe. “Thank you Evie, that’s very sweet of you. Why are you all out here in this weather? It’s awfully cold, isn’t it?”

Grace nodded, tugging Evie back into her arms and wrapping the blanket around them. “We’re orphans, ma’am. We don’t have much choice to be out here,” she chuckled, showing the duo the gap in her teeth. “Look, Mr. White! I lost a tooth again!” 

Kieran snickered, nodding as he shrugged off his coat. “Very good. Make sure you keep your teeth, honey.” 

_ What is he doing,  _ Lauren wondered as he stood up, draping his thick brown coat over the three children.

“It’s cold, and that blanket doesn’t look nearly enough.” He examined the clothes of the little children, pulling gently at Georgie's shirt to see it better. “I have some old clothes at my place, and I’ll bring them to you tomorrow. Georgie should be able to fit into some of my clothes. Grace, you and Evie can probably figure out a way to use the rest of them.” 

The trio nodded, beaming at the dark-haired man in front of them as they chorused: “Thank you, Mr. White!”

“We’ll be here then, since nobody tries to kick us out in the alleys,” said Grace. 

Looking at the slim children huddled against the stairs, Lauren found herself tugging off her scarf, handing it to Evie. “Here you go. It’s not the thickest thing out there, but I wouldn’t want any of you getting sick.” 

Evie tried to hand it back to her, shaking her head adamantly. “No, Ms. Lauren, you don’t have to. You’re probably cold too. We’re used to it. Mr. White’s coat and some hot soup after should be okay for us.”

Lauren smiled sadly, pushing the soft bundle of fabric back towards the small girl. “It’s okay. I’m actually heading over to Mr. White’s apartment, so I’ll be warm soon. You have to last the whole night to get those clothes!” 

Grace reached over, wrapping the scarf around Evie and making sure it covered as much of the little girl as possible. “What do you say?” 

“Thank you,” she replied bashfully, offering an appreciative smile that warmed Lauren’s heart. She would’ve given them her coat if she weren’t freezing and if Kieran hadn’t stopped her with a soft pat on her knee, as if reading her mind.

Kieran nodded, patting Georgie’s shoulder. “We’d best get going now, but make sure you’re here tomorrow. I’ll bring those clothes.” 

They turned back at the end of the alley, stepping into the brightly lit sidewalk. Thin arms waved delicately in the darkness. Lauren turned to stare at Kieran, who was waving animatedly in return.

“I didn’t think… I didn’t think there were orphans here in the 11th,” she whispered, pulling the collar of her coat higher to cover her now exposed neck. 

Kieran nodded, picking up his pace as her obvious shivers as his eyes caught sight of the building blocks down. “It’s sad, isn’t it? The three of them grew up on the streets together. They’re admittedly cuter than some of the others, so they generally got a pass when they wandered into the wealthier districts. However, the older they get the less sympathetic people are. They prefer to be around here because it’s a little safer.”

“Do they not go to school?”

“No, I don’t think they do,” he responded. “Georgie works at a print shop, I believe, and Grace takes Evie with her when she washes some of the dishes at the backs of restaurants. They don’t earn much, since businesses aren’t really allowed to hire children as young as they are, but it helps them get meals at least once a day. I try to give them some clothes and money for food when I can…” he trailed off, observing the falling snow, before whispering more to himself: “God knows I would’ve been so happy if someone gave me some clothes and money when I was this cold. Most people can’t afford to give someone else food or clothes in Greychapel, though.”

Seeing Lauren’s questioning gaze, he shook his head, grinning hesitantly at her. “It’s not really anything to talk about. That was very nice of you, by the way. It was a very nice scarf.”

She shrugged and tilted her head towards him. She knew his childhood had not been easy, with the little information she had collected and the crumbs he’d sprinkle around her. He had apparently been homeless at some point, but she wasn’t sure when or why.

She decided not to push it. “I… I just thought they could use it more than me.”

Kieran nodded at Lauren, analyzing the imprints their shoes made in the snow. “That’s nice. By the way, going back to what we were talking about before I got a little… derailed,” he chuckled at himself. “I heard that some volunteers are going into some of the prisons and are teaching some classes. Apparently, there have been a few people who actually got certificates when they were released. I’ve heard they’re working now, too.” 

Lauren blinked in surprise at him. “Really?”

“Really!”

“That’s actually pretty great,” she grinned. “It’s good to hear that a few people actually were able to turn their lives around.”

“Well,  _ madame Sinclair _ , I’m of the opinion that everyone deserves a fair chance at life. If more people take the time to spread some kindness and try to give others the opportunity to make a change in their lives, I’m sure that we’d hear more success stories like this.” he glanced back at the alley. “I can’t say that I can save  _ everyone _ , but I hope that what I do for the three of them can put them on the right track. They’re good kids.”

“They are,” she agreed, smiling at him as he opened the door for her. “I suppose that a little warmth and kindness can go a long way.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just saying that because this lobby is warm and you’ve been in the cold for fifteen minutes?”

“I’m absolutely certain, Kieran.”

* * *

“And we’re  _ done _ !” Kieran announced, setting the large green plate on the kitchen island. “Lauren… Are you okay?” 

Lauren was hunched over a cutting board, carefully cutting the herbs that would be set on the steak. “I’m  _ getting  _ there, okay–”

“You’ve been there for ten minutes already–”

“ _ I said _ I’ll get it done.”

“Well, then–” 

Chuckling, Kieran pulled an extra cutting board from the rack, setting up his own little station next to Lauren’s. Noting her glare when he took a bundle of herbs from her, he smirked, raising his free hand in surrender.

“ I just like cutting things,  okay?”

“ _ Really? _ ”

“Okay, no,” he admitted, quickly slicing the thyme, not even bothering to watch his fingers. “It’s just that the other should be here soon and I wanted to help you out so we could finish faster.”

“Are you calling me–”

“No, I’m not calling you  _ slow _ . I’m just saying that it helps if we get these on the steak _ sooner  _ rather than  _ later _ .” he twirled one of the knives between his fingers. “Plus, I know my way around these knives better and have a better grip on how to use them.” 

“Fine, I’ll let you get by this time.” 

“Thank you,  _ your Honor _ ,” he teased, wiping his hands on his slacks. “Could you get the silverware while I finish up this sauce? You know where it is, don’t you?”

“Why do you assume I know where your stuff is, Mr. White. This is  _ your  _ house. It’s not like I live here–”

“Right, okay. But you’re currently collecting forks and knives from my drawer, so it proves that it was a good decision on my part to ask you to set the table.”

She dangerously pointed a knife at him. “Wipe that grin off your face; as you said last time, I’m just  _ intuitive _ and  _ observant _ ,” she retorted, navy blue dress skimming her black tights. 

Mere moments after she finished tucking the last fork into the napkins, an excited series of knocks rang out at the door. “Coming!” she yelled, hurrying towards the door.

Lila and Lukas stood at the door, carrying a stack of boxes. “Ms. Sinclair! You got here so early this time,” Lila snickered as Lukas bent down to pull slippers for them from the cabinet.

“ I ran into her when I was shopping for ingredients _ , _ ” Kieran stated, swooping towards the couple to take the appetizers from them. “She helped me a bit with the main course, too.” 

“I see.” Lila giggled, digging through her purse. “Kieran, I have a few of your ties. I’ll put them back for you;  _ don’t _ mess up the order again. I can’t  _ always _ know where your clothes are.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart, I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” he said, snagging a bite of the hummus. “Mmmm, delicious, as always. You can always tell when Lila cooks something, don’t you agree, Lukas?” 

“ _ I  _ made the hummus, White,” Lukas grumbled from his spot on the couch. 

“Nevermind then,” Kieran replied, smirking at his friend. “ It tastes absolutely horrible .  Positively disappointing. ”

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” 

“How do you know where his ties are?” Lauren asked Lila as she followed her to the bedroom, offering to hold some of the clothes that she produced from her bag. “I thought you were his secretary.”

“Well, I  _ am _ his secretary,” she agreed, finally giving up and just setting her bag on his bed. “But, as he says, I’m basically his mother, his maid, and his wife as well,” she snickered, opening up a drawer to tuck his ties inside. “I don’t mind it.” 

“Has he always asked you to do these things?” Lauren asked, watching as Lila hung two shirts in his closet. 

“Absolutely not. I just noticed that he’s as capable of taking care of himself as a toddler, so I decided to spare both of us the hassle and just do it myself,” she replied, raising her voice near the end to ensure that the man in question heard her.

“Guilty as charged, sweetpea!” came the response from the kitchen. 

“But yes,” Lila said, chuckling to herself as she closed the closet door and turned to look at Lauren. “I’ve done this for almost as long as I’ve worked for him. It’s given me a fair share of… interesting experiences.”

“Oh?” Lauren asked, raising her eyebrow as they made their way back to the living room. “What do you mean, interesting?” 

“Well, there was that time–” 

“Oh, not  _ this  _ again,  _ Mrs. Randall _ ,” Kieran groaned, spooning the garlic and herb sauce onto the steaks. “You’re never letting go of this, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Blame yourself,” she quipped, giggling. “There was that one time I came over, shortly after Lukas and I got married, to hand him some documents. I couldn’t find him, and he has a nasty habit of falling asleep in the bathtub, so I went looking for Kieran because the files were apparently urgent.”

“ _ Must you _ ?”

“I _ must _ , Kieran. Now hush, and finish putting out everything,” she instructed, shaking her head at the pouting attorney. “I swear, there’s a child underneath all the bravado that simply refuses to grow up. Anyhow, he wasn’t anywhere, so my only option was to literally barge into the bathroom. Turns out he  _ wasn’t  _ asleep and was just reading as he sang in the bath. I’m sure you’ve seen the weird wooden plank he keeps in there.”

“I have,” Lauren replied. Kieran groaned in protest, plopping down on the couch across Lukas.

“I’ve  _ told  _ you that it’s like a  _ desk _ , Lila. It’s not  _ weird _ –”

“Sure, darling. But yes, he was reading this  _ giant  _ mystery novel and was humming to the music,” Lila cackled, having sat down next to her husband. Even Lukas cracked a smile, smirking at the absolutely betrayed look on Kieran’s face. “I must say, he’s decent at singing. Unfortunately, that also happened to mean that he didn’t have anything on. There were bubbles everywhere, though, so before I could see anything I had already turned around.” 

“Okay–”

“Be  _ glad  _ there were bubbles,  _ Mr. White _ ,” she chastised, grinning teasingly at him. “You, sir, had the  _ audacity  _ to ask me if I liked what I saw.”

“ I  _did not_ –”

“Did  _ too! _ ”

Kieran stared at Lauren, suddenly remembering that she could hear lies. She pretended to not see him, smiling at Lila. “Did he  _ really _ , now?”

“Anyhow, I pretended to actually be upset and called Lukas,” she continued, winking at Kieran. “He showed up and basically played the role of the upset husband who’s offended that his wife was  _ scandalized _ .” 

“Kieran was honestly scared,” noted Lukas, smirking at his best friend.

“Actually, I wasn’t. I was mostly scared of Lila, because she’s threatened to break my glass divider on multiple occasions when she’s been upset with me. I also didn’t want her to quit, since I literally cannot live without her.”

“Kieran, she’s  _ my  _ wife–”

“Well, she’s  _ mine,  _ too, until I find one!” 

Lauren snickered at the trio, who were now laughing over each other’s antics. Despite the absolutely ludicrous things they were laughing about, there weren’t lies in their words, and that brought a smile to her face as she listened to the couple as they recalled whatever embarrassing story they had about Kieran. Before they could argue more about whose spouse was whose, the doorbell rang, sending Kieran rushing to the door. 

“Hello Kym, Will. Very glad you both could make it,” he said, waving them in. “Kym, does your dessert need to go into the fridge?” 

“I…” she murmured, giggling nervously at herself. “I’m not sure? I brought some cream puffs, so if you like them better cold, you can go for it. I also brought blueberry cheesecake, so that’s also… Up to you.” 

Kieran laughed, grinning at her. “Alright.” He turned to yell into the living room: “Hey, do you guys like your creampuffs and cheesecake at room temperature or chilled?” 

“Chilled,” was the unanimous reply, so both boxes went into the fridge while Will’s salad was transferred into a large bowl.

Lila called everyone to the living room and as everyone got seated, Kym subtly dropped her purse on the couch, something that looked a lot bigger and heavier than what she preferred to carry around. Lauren glanced at it strangely but dismissed it when Lila stood up for a toast, raising her mug of hot tea.

“I’d like to congratulate Will for his promotion to Captain, Kym for her promotion to Lieutenant, Lukas for his promotion to Sergeant…” she glanced at the side, to her husband, who smiled slightly and nodded. Lila took a deep breath. “And make the announcement that…”

She trailed off, grinning excitedly at everyone at the table. “We’re expecting!”

There was a gasp of surprise around the whole table, and Kieran blinked repeatedly, mouth partially agape as the words registered. Lila shrugged off her shawl, hanging it on the back of her chair to reveal a dress that hugged a little belly – _ her _ little belly,  _ her _ baby. “It’s been almost five months! She’s due in May!”

Kieran had stood up, still blinking at the couple as he tentatively reached out toward Lila’s stomach. “Can I–”

Lila smiled, taking a step closer to him. “Yes, Kieran. You can try to see if she’ll kick. She’s not moving right now, but she’s in there.” 

He placed a hand gently on her belly, eyes nearly watering as he glanced between Lila and Lukas, completely at a loss of words. 

Kym took the initiative to jump to her feet, beaming at the couple. “I’m so  _ excited  _ for you!”

“Thank you,” Lukas said, smiling slightly at her. He stared pointedly at Lila. “We don’t know if they’re a girl yet–”

“We do. The doctor said that he could tell the sex of the baby, and he said that she was female.” 

“He’s an  _ herbal  _ doctor, darling–”

“Still a doctor, Lukas.”

“I can’t  _ believe  _ you two didn’t tell me this,” Kieran exclaimed, halfway between laughing and crying. The mix of emotions running through his eyes was hilarious: from the sheer joy to the  _ hurt _ . He half-glared at Lukas, his voice cracking like a pubescent teenager as he whined: “I’m your best friend!  _ Why didn’t you tell me? _ ”

Lila laughed, pulling him in for a hug.

“We didn’t know until three months ago, and then Lukas’ case happened, so we didn’t want to put more pressure on you. I also didn’t know if… If she’d make it. My family has a history of miscarriages, you see,” she admitted, tenderly rubbing her belly. “We wanted to wait for the riskier months to pass. You’re the first people we’ve told. We didn’t want our parents getting their hopes up before there was a good chance that she’d stay put.”

“Plus, I think that the fact that you’ll be her godfather more than makes up for us withholding information for a tad longer,” said Lukas. 

“I’m going to be the  _ godfather _ ?” he whispered, beaming at Lila hopefully. 

“Yes, Kieran. Who else would be the godfather? We literally only have two handfuls of friends, and you’re Lukas’ best friend. Even though we haven’t found a  _ godmother  _ for her yet,” she said, staring at him pointedly. “We still want you as her godfather.”

Lauren stood from her seat, extending a hand to Lukas. “Congratulations, Lukas! I’m sure you both will be wonderful parents.” 

“Thank you!” Lila beamed, gripping Lauren’s hands. Will slung an arm around Lukas’ shoulder as he congratulated him, which the sergeant begrudgingly accepted with an awkward tap at Will’s hand. 

“Well, this calls for  _ extra  _ celebration then,” Kieran announced, urging everyone to raise their glasses. He beamed at the Randalls. “To your baby, to a better year, and many more to come! Now, let’s eat before all the food gets cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, Waters here!
> 
> Welcome back :) So...the conversation at the beginning was the result of me trying out something new. To me, _The Moonlighters_ isn't just a (very) self-indulgent fanfic, but also a way for me to try and spark a bit of...dialogue, perhaps? This chapter was a bit of an exposition dump to kick off the arc and to sort of...set the tone of the arc. I'm not sure what I was going for there, but I wanted to address how LKW and LLS have different but still somewhat compatible views on a topic. I've gotten so tired of people feeling the need to be on one extreme or another, and it was refreshing to allow these two characters discuss their views in a way that didn't explode into something nasty. I hope it was done...decently? 
> 
> With the orphans, there was something that spoke to me in particular about them. As a person who volunteers to feed the homeless, I still vividly remember how...surprised, perhaps, I was that a majority (except for a couple) of the homeless individuals I met were so kind. Society often tells us to "study hard or we'll end up homeless" or that the homeless are "scary people who do drugs." While this may be true for SOME individuals, I think that the first time I actually saw these people as more than a statistic and actually got the opportunity to speak with them was a very powerful experience. We all know that Lauren could benefit from a boost in exercising compassion, and I think that even _if_ she believes that she's seen it all with the cases she prosecutes, she never really took the opportunity to see these individuals in a more...understanding light. I don't really know how to describe it, but I feel like she probably saw our three lovely children and suddenly, for maybe the first time in her life, saw homeless children as ACTUALLY helpless. 
> 
> Moving on...WE FINALLY SHOWED YOU OUR SECRET. WE'VE BEEN PLANNING THIS FOR SO **LONG** AND WE'RE SO EXCITED TO BRING IT TO YOU :)) We already have a name picked out, as well...who knows, we might leak it sometime in the future :)) Lila's been pregnant for the entire story...if you go back, you'll notice that we've been dropping clues the whole time :)
> 
> Guess what ranunculuses symbolize and get a cookie from Giggle, the flower enthusiast :)
> 
> Also...THANK YOU all for helping us reach 4k hits and over 200 kudos!!! The support has been overwhelming, and we never expected to get this much love when we began this story. It seems like it was just yesterday when we had 3k...so we unfortunately don't have anything planned. However, we'd like to ask YOU guys what you'd like to see! We'll save your ideas for 5k (and perhaps...even more?)! 
> 
> ANYHOW, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and we'll (hopefully) see you Wednesday! If not, we'll once again see you next Saturday :))


	21. Treacherous Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Will held back the urge to question him, but today he had already uncovered far too many unwanted secrets, and the memory of a locked drawer was still branded into his memory.
>> 
>> He didn’t want to know, so he didn’t ask.

I t was obvious Lauren wasn’t very surprised hearing the story of how Will and Kym had discovered the file.

Will couldn’t blame her. They had been friends with Kym for years now, and her antics never ceased to be the cause of ruckus; thank goodness she knew  _ when _ to behave (she was no  _ senseless idiot _ ), but otherwise would rather have a bullet through her skull than to stop being her boisterous self. It seemed to annoy Lukas greatly, yet amused Kieran and Lila. Kym tried to defend her reasoning without much success, sending the room into a fit of laughter before the mood dropped again.

Will didn’t miss the uneasiness in everyone’s eyes at the sight of the file –or, to be exact, the emblem on it. It was in the way Lila and Lukas squeezed each other’s hands a little tighter, Kieran fidgeted with his collar, and Lauren’s eyes shifted across the room frenetically. She had never been gifted in the arts of subtlety. It had been a disadvantage that haunted her right from their childhood when her face alone would betray who broke the expensive vase, or who had crushed the peony bushes.

Will slid the folder towards Lauren, who after staring at the cover, opened it and started placing all its content over the kitchen island. Groups of papers, photographs, and handwritten notes were clipped together in smaller stacks, aside from the loose documents all over the place. Lila and Will dutifully organized everything on the surface, his eyes catching glimpses of the information displayed before him. Many of the photographs display an assortment of objects and documents captured in black and white, a small assortment including people, and a few full crime scenes.

_ I thought they said we were low on funds and couldn’t afford to photograph entire scenes _ , mused Will, eyeing the small pile of photographs from one crime scene.

Kieran approached the kitchen island, his hands still dripping with water and suds, staring over Lauren’s shoulder at the papers. “Did you say it was a hidden compartment?”

“It looked like it was a panel behind the drawers themselves,” Will explained as Lauren laced the last stack down. “Maybe he had just pulled out the wood piece that covered it. The drawers had to be at least partially pulled out to access the spot.”

“Hugues Hermann involved with the Reapers,” Lauren clucked her tongue. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“You were never fond of him.” Kym chuckled from her spot, busy drying the dishes Lukas handed her with a kitchen towel and putting them in the cabinet.

“I wasn’t,” Lauren admitted, shrugging. “He was a jerk. Never liked me, my uncle, not even Will’s dad. He was always rude to us for no good reason.”

Lukas grumbled as he scrubbed a particularly stubborn stain. “He always acted like he had to crawl through a sewer to get to the APD.”

Lila observed the documents before her, cradling a cup of tea in her hands.“All of this looks like… evidence, doesn’t it?”

Will picked up one of the papers, one which had a small card stapled to it with Hermann’s penmanship reading: “Gregory McTrevor, involvement with Harry Anslow’s Import Case”. He remembered the day Harry Anslow had been brought in after the discovery of multiple shortswords inside a crate he picked up from the port.

“Kym, take a look at this,” Will stood next to Kym, showing her the typed letter. “Do you remember the Anslow Case?”

“The one where he dragged his superior with him?” Kym nodded. “Yes, I remember that. I can’t remember what the name of the man was, though.”

“Gregory McTrevor,” Lukas declared from the sink. “A merchant. He was using Harry Anslow as a middleman to pick up the shortswords that were presumed to be transferred to the Mafia Families.”

“At least, that’s what Anslow said when he was interrogated. He claimed to have the letter that proved McTrevor’s involvement, but when the IU searched through the confiscated items of his office, they found nothing. This–” Will waved the sheet in the air for everyone to see it. “–seems to be that letter.”

“How did  _ that _ fall into Hermann’s hands?” Lauren muttered.

In response, Kieran shook his head. “If Hugues Hermann was associated with the Reapers, he must have multiple people working under him. It’s probable one of those people got it for him.”

Lauren sent Kieran a questioning look, which he returned with a shrug. Sighing, Lauren asked: “And how did McTrevor escape those accusations?”

“He lawyered his way out of all the charges,” Kym scoffed. “That bastard, all he had to do was get a good attorney and he left that whole mess without a scratch. No offense to the lawyers in the room.”

Kieran laughed. “None taken, Lieutenant. I actually know the attorney that attended McTrevor’s case.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. “You do?”

Next to her, Lila nodded, lifting a finger and reciting diligently: “Jacqueline Harper. Rather young woman, but exceptionally bright. She’s been working for the MBC firm for only a year, but she’s got great potential.”

Kieran grinned, rinsing a dish. “McTrevor nearly threw a tantrum when he knew a  _ woman _ would defend him since his usual attorney wasn’t available. I think he was on vacation, might’ve been on some island.”

“Why are you so informed of McTrevor’s case?” Lauren inquired.

“I know what happens at my workplace.”

Lila leaned closer to Lauren, whispering: “McTrevor barged into his office demanding that Kieran defended him, and made a complete fool of himself.”

Kieran cackled. “It was truly glorious. Miss Harper did an amazing job getting McTrevor out of that predicament. To be honest, it wasn’t such a hard case. With the lack of evidence against McTrevor, I highly doubt that got anywhere past the preliminary hearing.”

“It didn’t,” Will sighed. “Detective March was very frustrated. They even questioned Anslow with a polygraph, and what he said about McTrevor’s involvement was true but without any solid proof, that was rather useless. It was as if the letter had vanished into thin air.”

Kym released a mirthless chuckle. “Little did we know… That letter was inside the APD all along and we had _ no idea _ .”

Will placed his hand on Kym’s shoulder, noticing how upset she was in the furious rubbing of the kitchen towel along the rim of a wine glass. He patted her shoulder comfortingly, and she acknowledged it with a quick smile before returning to her whirlwind polishing of the plates.

Will had to admit that he was upset, too. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe every single officer was a righteous one, but still, he had never expected that someone as severe as Captain Hermann would be capable of this kind of betrayal. By associating with the Mafia, he was endangering the very city he had sworn to protect, so why had he done it in the first place? Why would he hide evidence that’d keep criminals on the streets?

_ Who else was like him inside the 11th? _

Lukas grabbed a spare towel and dried his hands, finished with his task, leaving Kieran and Kym to rinse and dry the cutlery. Sitting on the stool next to Lila, he asked: “What about the rest of these documents? Are all of them similar cases?”

Lauren, who during the course of the conversation had been busy examining the rest of the papers, nodded as she dropped one of the bigger stacks back on the counter. “These are all cold cases and closed investigations, mostly murders and money laundering.”

Will picked up another stack of evidence for another case, this time of fraud. The documents attached had also kept crucial evidence stocked away and hidden from the detectives, evidence that clearly kept white-collar criminals from facing consequences for their actions. He had to admit that it enraged him. All of these folders had at least one common thread stringing them together: each suspect had implied involvement with the mafia, or to be precise, with the infamous Reaper Family.

Oddly, violent crimes linked to the Reaper Family had decreased ever since the change of leadership from Inar Brenner to his daughter, Jovie Brenner. A majority of the violent crimes like assassinations or assault were linked to the Viper Family or other smaller families. However, it was still well-established that the Reapers and Vipers held the most power over Ardhalis, contributing to a significant majority of all reported crimes with their activities varying from money laundering to prostitution rings.

And of course, there was also corruption. No one in the police was gullible enough to believe that the clutches of the mafia hadn’t weaved through the cracks in the government and justice system. Everyone was aware that the mafias had moles in the ranks, perhaps even more than the police had in their ranks.

Will released a tired sigh. It was definitely a plague that would be nearly impossible to combat, but thankfully, there were people crazy enough to try.

And they were all inside this room, apparently.

Lila had taken a stack of documents with what looked to be a picture attached, inspecting it carefully before releasing a tiny gasp, her eyes flying to her husband and tugging him closer to her so he could see. Lukas frowned, grabbing the papers from her hands and flipping quickly through the pages before raising his head. Everyone was already staring at him, expectant of his explanation.

“This is a file on Harvey Wood,” he flipped it to show them the front, their focus immediately shifted to the black and white picture of Harvey and the ‘deceased’ stamped in red ink next to his name. Lukas scoffed. “It says here that he was a mole for the Viper Family.”

Will’s anger resurfaced abruptly like a salted pot of boiling water. He dropped his weight on the available stool next to Kym, his face falling into his hands with a tired groan. He’d been Captain for four days only and he was already being bombarded with problems to solve, and of course, demands from his father so he’d join him for dinner as soon as possible for reasons Will could already picture very well.

Kym raised her hand and gently patted his shoulder, and it turned into a pleasant weight on top of his shoulder, neatly rested on the angle as if it were a weighted shawl. Will took a deep breath and straightened on his seat, not missing Kym’s tiny encouraging smile as he spoke again.

“What else does it say about Harvey Wood?”

Lukas’ eyes flitted over the page, quickly taking in the typed letters before replying: “Not much, actually. Hermann had some notes about him… Where he came from, his past, and information about his family. It seems he was trying to figure out the reason behind being a mole.”

“Does it say anything about his murder?” Kym asked, her eyes downcast, probably remembering the morning they had gone to fetch a mop because in the middle of a scuffle she and Will had spilled coffee, only to be surprised by the presence of Harvey’s corpse between brooms and buckets. How ironic it was that they’d been the ones to find Hermann’s corpse, too.

In response to Kym, Lukas pulled one of the pages and leaned over the table to hand it to Kym, nearly knocking over one of the cups of coffee and tea Kieran was busy placing next to each of them.

Lauren ran her fingers through her hair, pulling slightly at the red locks as Kieran placed her second cup of coffee next to the file she had been reading. “That makes two spies already inside the APD, of different Families, and we had no idea.” she gritted her teeth. “I can’t believe I was defending the interests of a  _ criminal _ .”

“It wasn’t as if you knew, darling.” Kieran shrugged. “There was no way you could’ve known.”

Lila sighed, her eyes falling to her hands, busy fidgeting with her shawl. In a broken whisper that announced tears, she said: “You know, what pains me the most is… dear, poor Eleanor. She died because of this case. She died just like Harvey did, but she was innocent. I…”

Lukas swallowed a knot in his throat and looped his arms around his wife, holding her close to his chest as her shoulders shook with silent tears concealed by Lukas’ shoulder. The rest of the room fell silent at the mention of the girl.

They all had woken up the day after their last dinner to the news of Eleanor Zhang’s murder plastered on the front pages of newspapers, her name written in bold headlines. She had been found dead in the back alley of her workplace, the Golden Clover, by her manager on the very night  _ they _ had been celebrating; assassinated with golden viper venom, unmistakably the work of a Viper, and left in the dark. She had died terrified and in pain. Lila had called that morning to inform Will that Lukas wouldn’t go to work (he could swear he’d heard ragged breathing from her side of the line, but he kept this observation to himself), and the couple had taken the liberty of going to the young woman’s family to offer them assistance and solace. They even attended the funeral, along with Kieran. Will, Kym, and Lauren had sent an arrangement of white chrysanthemums and roses with written condolences in the card that accompanied the flowers.

As with Harvey, the investigations of Eleanor’s death and the search for her murderer had turned up to be rather fruitless, since the assassin had left nothing behind, not even a witness. Over the clinking of cups and drunken laughter of the patrons inside the Golden Clover, it had been impossible for any of the staff to hear what had occurred, and no one in the vicinity had heard or seen anything.

Therefore, there was no one to appoint her assassination to, and no one was paying for the death of a bright and young woman with dreams and expectations for her future.

After a few minutes of silent sobbing and a warm cup of tea offered by Kieran, Lila calmed down, urging with a flick of her wrist the rest to continue as she dried the mascara from under her eyes.

Kym was the one to speak first.

“We have to do something about this.”

Lauren nodded in agreement. “We can’t let this level of corruption and all these secrets remain uncovered. Too many innocent people have already suffered at the hands of the mafias.”

Will slouched on his stool, crossing his arms and shooing away the mental image of his childhood tutors commanding him to  _ sit straight, William. _ “The problem is that we no longer know who to trust inside the police. I don’t think Hermann kept a list, but there surely must be more spies than him, both from the Reapers and the Vipers, and maybe even the smaller families. Well, of course, aside from the people in this room.”

Lukas tensed on his seat, shifting subtly, but didn’t react more than that. Will held back the urge to question him, but today he had already uncovered far too many unwanted secrets, and the memory of a locked drawer was still branded into his memory.

He didn’t want to know, so he didn’t ask.

They examined the rest of the documents in hushed conversation, collecting a variety of evidence on multiple closed investigations that only increased William’s headache. It was Kym who suggested they ended for the night, and everyone agreed upon one glance to the clock, quickly picking up their things as Lauren helped Kieran with the now empty mugs.

“Do you want me to take you home, Lauren? We’ll drop Kym off in the way,” Will asked, tying his scarf and tucking it inside his coat.

Lauren hesitated as she picked up the mugs Will and Kym had used, exchanging a fleeting glance with Kieran. “Ah… No, I’ll stay for a little bit longer. Don’t worry, I won’t take long.”

Kieran gave a single nod in Will’s direction. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe, Captain. You two can go ahead.”

Lauren shot Kieran an offended look, which he brushed off with a nonchalant shrug. Will held back his curiosity (and Kym’s too, by tugging her in the direction of the door before she could begin pestering Lauren) and waved at the attorneys as they made their way out.

“Goodnight, you two,” Lila called behind her, blowing a kiss towards Lauren and Kieran. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Kieran smirked. “I see you’re practicing for that baby, Lila.”

“Have been for the past three years, sweetpea,” Lila giggled, hooking her arm to her husband’s. “Goodnight!”

Lukas grumbled his farewells as well before the couple crossed the threshold, stopping a few feet from the door to wait for Kym and Will.

Kym winked at Lauren over her shoulder as she adjusted her hat. “Yes, sure. Don't stay up  _ too  _ late, lovebirds.”

Lauren nearly aimed the mugs she was holding to Kym’s head. “ _ Kym Ladell! _ ”

Kym burst out laughing, and Will took that as his cue to grab her arm and tug her out of the apartment, closing the door to save Kieran and Lauren the embarrassment of Kym’s very creative and very suggestive comments. He scolded her for teasing Lauren like that, but it came out empty when he couldn’t hold back the grin. The four of them walked to the elevator, laughing, and for the first time in the evening, it made Will laugh without a worry. Some things never changed, and he was glad Kym Ladell remained the same despite the constant headaches that meant.

He glanced towards Lila and Lukas, eyeing the way the tenderly caressed her pregnant belly, the gold of their marriage bands glinting up at him.

Some things changed drastically, too.

* * *

After the door clicked shut, Lauren and Kieran had picked up the mugs in silence and washed them without exchanging a single word. Even after they had been dried and stored back into their respective places, the two attorneys didn’t exchange so much as a glance, as if they were soldiers preparing for war, their minds saving ammunition for the argument that was sure to follow. The past few months that had passed had demonstrated that they enjoyed arguing just as much as they enjoyed debating.

It was a cabinet she closed with a little more strength than necessary that broke the silence, her hands coming to rest flat on the counter as she burnt a hole on the wall with her gaze alone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” was her first attack.

“I didn’t know,” came his defense.

“ _ Bullshit _ ,” she snarled, whipping around to face him, angered even though he hadn’t lied to her. “I don’t like this answer, try again.”

He leaned against the cold kitchen island, throwing his head back and sighing to the ceiling, the low bun loosening a little bit more by his nape. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, then carefully claimed: “I wasn’t…  _ sure _ .”

Lauren slammed her heel down, her fists curling by her sides. “Which means you suspected it and didn’t once think it’d be wise to  _ tell me _ ?”

Kieran raised an eyebrow. “I’d rather not give incomplete information.”

“We also agreed to not  _ withhold it _ –”

“I was  _ not  _ withholding it, Lauren,” Kieran explained, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “My suspicions came from simple comments I’ve heard. I had nothing to back it up.”

Lauren walked over to him, dropping her weight on the stool to his left before saying: “Explain yourself, then.”

Kieran sighed, dropping on a stool as well. “ _ Bossy woman, seriously _ . Do you remember that monthly dinner I told you about? The one with the Reaper’s most influential associates, and of course, me?”

Lauren nodded curtly. “I do, go on.”

“On the one back in October– You know, the one where Belladonna Davenport barged in uninvited? Anyway, that night, she had a little discussion with Jovie. Belladonna said something about Jovie losing a  _ powerful associate _ , right after she asked if she had heard the news of Hermann’s murder. Of course, Jovie wasn’t impressed at all. She also revealed to me that night that she had been the one to personally kill Harvey Wood,” Kieran scowled. “And of course, she’s without a doubt the one who killed Eleanor Zhang. Golden viper venom is Bella’s family’s trademark, and they reserve it for their personal assassinations; they don’t sell it at all and are one of the very few producers.”

Lauren huffed in exasperation. “And we can’t tell anyone any of this, because it’d only reveal you and Lukas.”

“Exactly,” Kieran nodded, flicking his palm in the air. “There is also the fact that Lukas had to be under someone’s surveillance inside the APD, and someone also had to protect him. You know Lukas is Jovie’s card against me, but his safety is also mine against her. She had to make sure nothing happened to him or she lost me. I suspected someone with a higher position had to be in charge of that, but after crossing off your friends and most of the higher ranking detectives, I only had Captain Hermann left.”

Lauren crossed her arms, leaning against the countertop. “Ms. J didn’t tell you anything?”

Kieran shook his head. “It isn’t against my own interests, so I never asked either. As long as she fulfilled her side of the agreement, I didn’t have a reason to dig further.”

Lauren scoffed. “It would’ve been useful to know now,  _ genius _ .”

Kieran chuckled. “I had no way to know  _ this  _ would happen, and honestly? This Family already bothers me enough. I don’t want to know more people who are members.” he stretched, lifting his arms high above his head before continuing: “Besides, hope’s not lost,  _ darling _ . I happen to have unlimited and unsupervised access to the Reaper Archives. I’ll go tomorrow and see what I can get for you,” he finished with a wink, and Lauren shook her head while rolling her eyes.

Lauren grinned, standing back up and picking up her purse from the kitchen island. “Well then. I better get going.”

Kieran stood up with her, following her to the door and taking his shoes from the cabinet as well. Lauren shot him a questioning look as she put on her heels again. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home, of course. It’s too late, there are no cabs at this time, and I promised Will that I’d make sure you got home safely.”

Lauren huffed indignantly. “I don’t need you to walk me home,  _ Mr. White _ . I can just call you once I arrive.”

Kieran smirked at her, putting on one of the coats hanging by his door. “Indulge me,” he took his scarf from the hanger and offered it to Lauren. “Take this. You’ll freeze to death without your scarf, and I’m not carrying a popsicle all the way to your Manor. I highly doubt that’s how you’d like to introduce me to your uncle,  _ mon amour _ .”

Lauren smacked his arm, causing him to burst out laughing. She finished tying his scarf around her neck and pulled the door open aggressively, her chin tilted up in defiance. “Well, you better pick up speed because I won’t be waiting for you.”

And she was off in the direction of the stairs, rubbing her gloved hands as she approached the steps. Kieran closed the door and sprinted towards her, his laugh reverberating down the empty hallway, his smile widening as she took the first few steps down the staircase, wordlessly silencing any protest he may have or any suggestions to use the elevator instead. He had tried before, but she’d only ignore his words and keep climbing.

So, grinning to himself, he dove down the stairs after her, calling for her to slow down.

* * *

With a quick glimpse over his shoulder, Kieran ensured no one was following him before slipping down the alleyway and to the heavy door, pushing it open with his shoulder and stepping inside the building before closing it with a quiet  _ thud _ behind him.

He stopped before the haphazard mass of furniture mere feet ahead of him.

“Why in the  _ world  _ do they pile  _ more  _ things in front of the door every single time?” he groaned to no one in particular, shrugging off his coat and rolling up his sleeves. 

The secrets of the Reapers were hidden behind a wheeled bookcase, and upon shoving it aside he found the small door disguised as a wall. Kieran shook off the dust from his shirt, taking a deep breath before retrieving his coat and briefcase and slipping into the narrow hallway. He turned on the lights in his way, the faint lighting barely covering a quarter of the wide room Kieran scrunched up his nose as the musty scent of files that could be up to decades old.

Ambling slowly between the high shelves, he was drawn back to his first time in this room, trailing his fingers along the dusty shelves. The Reapers, for all their success, had incredibly unruly archives, which was to be expected when no one really cared for the place and they kept these old records for mere formality. Unfortunately, it meant that it took hours of searching through every last box and shelf to find the information needed.

_ And to think that they weren’t going to give me access to this room. _

He had demanded access to the archives from Jovie the first time she had phoned his office with instructions to defend one of his “fellow Family members”; he had reasoned that there was no reasonable way to argue a case for his new client against his suspected involvement with the Mafia without first knowing what he  _ had  _ done, lest he reveal something accidentally. The conversation had bordered an argument, but in the end, she granted him his request, under the ridiculous condition that he reorganized the thousands of files. He wasn’t particularly pleased with this request, but he had learned long ago to retreat with victory.

Giving him access had been for the best, and for the past three years, he had used whatever time he had to spare to fulfill Ms. J’s demand, slowly making his way from the back of the room to the more recent files.

“You just didn’t want me to know more than I had to, did you, Jovie?” he murmured to himself, dusting off a thick file with  _ Hugues Hermann  _ scrawled in black ink across its spine.

The Reaper’s file on the late captain of the 11th precinct was quite similar to the file he kept in his desk. However, while Hermann hadn’t kept reports documenting his own corruption, detailed loggings of his assignments from the Family were tucked between the folder.

The file had been sorted in reverse chronological order, and a thin sheet stamped with the word “Deceased” in bright red ink rested at the top of the papers as if it were some sort of prologue for Hermann’s apparently lengthy history working with the Reapers. Hermann’s correspondence had ended abruptly roughly a week before his murder, noting that he had noticed various people following him as he walked home from work and had seen different people peering through his windows as he worked later hours at the station. There was no register of a response from the Reapers.

_ Well, I suppose Jovie didn’t care, then. _

Jotting down the date on the letter on his notepad, Kieran continued rifling through the papers, pausing briefly when he reached a report of Harvey Wood’s death. He flipped backward, stopping when he reached what appeared to be the first mention of the, now deceased, officer.

According to the records, Lukas had reported the presence of a Viper mole in the 11th to Jovie, who had then sent separate instructions to Hermann to question the target and report him. After not finding much from pointed conversations with the officer (or from snooping through his drawers, apparently), the late captain had used Harvey in a bid to be promoted by reporting the mole to his superiors. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain, for the mole was assassinated by a Viper mere days after, and thus he had no way to benefit from him.

Jovie must have grown tired of the captain, who appeared to have an unpleasant disposition. Kieran knew that she’d never have allowed one of her pawns to be killed off without having milked every last benefit from him, and he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that she didn’t think that he’d be dealt with for exposing one of the opposing family’s spies, regardless of how menial that mole’s tasks were. They simply couldn’t risk him exposing any of their own.

Shaking his head as he placed the reports back into their spot, he sifted through the remaining evidence, scrawling notes about Hermann’s apartment furiously as he turned the pages with his left hand. 

Kieran halted abruptly when the names McTrevor and Anslow emerged from the flurry of pages on the desk. Struck by a sudden curiosity, he returned to the shelves, attempting to find McTrevor and Anslow’s folders as well.

McTrevor, a well-known merchant in Ardhalis, had apparently been involved with shipping unlicensed weapons and heavy-duty explosives along for the Reapers along with their shipments of flowers and fireworks. A quick glance through the records revealed that Anslow had been working under him. 

On the night Anslow was arrested, he had indeed been tasked to pick up the shipment from the docks. However, without the written letter he had insisted his boss had given him, there were only records with his signature on all the related paperwork and on the authorizations, with absolutely no trace McTrevor’s name.

Peeking into Anslow’s file, Kieran groaned and shook his head. Inside, a thin sheet of paper nearly identical to the one in Hermann’s file laid on top of the documents,  _ Deceased  _ once again marring the page. 

_ The idiot must have snitched _ . 

Many low-level Reapers had their own runs through the prison system. However, it was well understood that if they kept their mouths shut and took the fall, their families would be tended to and they would always have a position among the Reaper ranks upon release. However, one of the things that Jovie  _ had  _ decided to maintain from her father’s decades-long reign was that the Reapers didn’t claim  _ snitches _ . That was the reason she hadn’t disbanded the Crocus Unit.

If Anslow had just admitted to being the sole involvement for illegal weapon shipments, perhaps he’d still be alive. If Anslow hadn’t tried to drag his boss into the mess, perhaps he wouldn’t have been assigned as a target for one of the Crocus Unit assassins, who had silenced him for good in his cell. But then again, if Anslow hadn’t decided to get involved with the Reapers, perhaps he wouldn’t be in that predicament to begin with.

Kieran shook his head, returning the files to the shelf. He’d found confirmation of what he came looking for. There wasn’t a need to stay in the depressing room, a stark reminder of how Jovie treated all the associates under her: as disposable paperwork.

_ Just burn it once you’re done with it _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Giggle here!
> 
> Well weren't those lots of revelations ;)) I hope you've fastened your seatbelts because the ride has _just_ begun.
> 
> It seems someone's beliefs are getting tested, and I'm not exactly talking about Lauren. as radical as she might be, she's not quite as strict as Will (it might have to do with her hypocrisy, but that's another subject). You have to be your own brand of twisted to make a deal with an assassin -or, in this case, an attorney with a dubious background. But what about Will then?
> 
> We _did_ tell you guys to look out for him.
> 
> Also, I must mention that the snippet we chose for the summary is one that I feel really proud of. Cheers to me.
> 
> The Moonlighters are getting together to use their brains, following an unexpected lead and uncovering a whole bunch of crimes and corruption. Our dear characters have lots of work to do, it seems, and they have lots of thinking ahead, too. I wonder how they'll resolve it.
> 
> And we have another cameo! Attorney Jaqueline Harper is the cameo of our lovely friend [Jackie (bookswithjackie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookswithjackie/profile)! Worry not, you will definitely appear again in the future ;))) We haven't seen the last of Attorney Harper.
> 
> Flower language!
>
>> **Chrysantemums:** Truth, loyalty, and devoted love. In some Asian cultures, they are used to represent grief and used as funeral arrangements.  
>  **White Roses:** Innocence and purity; commonly used for funerals, and often accompany chrysanthemums.  
> 
> 
> (As a fun fact, your author, Giggle, despises white roses. Explanation? Too many bad memories with too many white roses)
> 
> We'd also like to inform you that, for the time being, we'll have to stick to weekly updates instead of biweekly. Some personal problems and tech issues are getting in the way XD
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading! we hope you enjoyed the chapter and please tell us your thoughts and theories. we love hearing them! much, much love <3


	22. Provisional Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “Alright, so,” Kym began, gesturing with a mug of coffee. “What exactly are we planning to do now?” 
>> 
>> “Lauren mentioned having a plan of sorts,” Kieran murmured, turning to her slowly. “Go on, you have my full attention.”

T hey had agreed to meet up over the weekend at Kieran’s place to discuss their upcoming course of action.

What Kieran  _ hadn’t  _ expected was for Lauren to show up at his apartment a whole twenty minutes before when they had scheduled to meet. 

“Ms. Sinclair, you’re here rather early,” he noted, closing the door behind his guest.

“Yes, my apologies for the surprise. I’ll help you prepare whatever you need me to,” she murmured, slipping her frozen feet into the fluffy slippers that sat on the floor. “Sorry, my hearing ended earlier than expected and since I was pretty close by…” she trailed off, staring semi-apologetically at him.

“No worries,” he chuckled, tossing a few extra pieces of wood into the furnace. “I’m afraid that my apartment isn’t as warm as you might have hoped it to be, though.”

“It’s fine. Thanks for letting me in.” 

Kieran nodded, dusting his hands off on his slacks. “So, what  _ else  _ brings you to my door so hurriedly? I’m sure my proximity to the courthouse isn’t the only reason you decided to join me so early.” 

Lauren nodded, striding across the dark floorboards to where Kieran stood by the stove boiling water. “My goodness, every time I’m in here I can’t help but wonder if you scorched your floorboards. And yes, I’ve been curious as to whether you’ve found anything significant in your archives.” 

“The Reaper archives,” he corrected her quickly, turning to face her as he leaned on the countertop. “No, I haven’t set my apartment ablaze. It’s an artistic choice. And yes, actually. I’ve found more than enough to prove that Hermann was indeed working for the Reapers and that it wasn’t just a one-time thing. Give me a moment, I took notes.”

Lauren watched as he hurried up the staircase, his slippers barely making a sound as he climbed, went back down, and rushed back to the kitchen. He smiled.

“It felt like I was cramming for an exam. The last time my hand actually cramped while writing was during the bar exam, so you should know that I took this  _ very  _ seriously,” he jested, winking at her. Kieran flipped open the legal pad and placed it in plain view on the kitchen island. He stuck his head inside the fridge. “Goat, cheddar, gouda, brie, parmesan. Pick three.” 

Lauren hummed in consideration. “Cheddar, gouda, and brie, then.”

“Good choices,” he nodded in agreement, taking the blocks from the fridge and setting everything out to slice them. “So, let’s see. Hermann’s file dates back around three years, during which he supposedly destroyed numerous pieces of evidence from cases. Evidently, that wasn’t the case, or at least not completely.”

“Mhm,” Lauren hummed, urging him to continue as she washed her hands before she reached into the cupboard to retrieve the charcuterie board. 

“He definitely did more than just make the letter from the Anslow case disappear, but it was likely in the form of preferential treatment to McTrevor. Oh!” he exclaimed, reaching into the drawer for some crackers, “Anslow’s dead, by the way.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, he’s dead. Probably because he snitched and tried to make trouble for the Family. Ms. J isn’t the fondest of people like that. He died in prison.” 

“Huh,” she frowned, setting the cheese onto the board. “Alright, well, go on. Was it all just case records?” 

“My, impatient, aren’t we,” he teased, popping a stray piece of cheese into his mouth before beginning slicing the cured meats. “No, it wasn’t just case records. There were also letters and memos from Hermann about various assignments. In fact, he’s technically the one responsible for kickstarting Harvey Wood’s doom.” 

“How so?”

“Well, after Lukas turned him in–” he began, watching her eyes for any sort of reaction, but continued when she had none. “See, Lukas only interacts with Jovie through me. They’re not fond of each other: Lukas hates her for what she is and what her father did to me, and Jovie despises the fact that she can’t control him. So Lukas told Jovie about Wood’s identity, and I suspect she then contacted Hermann about it. Since he probably didn’t have anything that interested her, she let Hermann deal with the spy as he wished.” 

“So Hermann must’ve reported the spy to  _ his  _ superiors, which eventually got Wood killed.” 

“Exactly,” Kieran nodded. “I’m guessing that there’s another Viper either at the same level as Hermann or above him. They must’ve found out that Harvey’s identity was compromised and just tied up their loose ends. No one in the mafia likes those. Unravels the knitting, as they say.” 

“That makes sense, I suppose,” she agreed. “Did Hermann say anything about other spies?” 

Kieran shook his head. “Not that I saw, no. A week before his death, though, he  _ did  _ mention that he thought someone was following him at work and as he was going home.” 

Lauren took the laminated prosciutto and started placing it on the board, carefully folded next to the cheese. “As in, someone was  _ maliciously  _ following him?”

“I don’t know,” Kieran admitted. “It didn’t say, but either way, Ms. J didn’t care enough to follow up on it. From what we know now, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of the Vipers scouting out his schedule before the actual assassin went in for the kill.” 

“Well,” Lauren huffed, throwing her hands in the air, “I guess that’s that. We’re in the light, they’re in the dark. They have the benefit of surprise, I suppose.” 

Kieran looked at her strangely, as if he wasn’t expecting her to take it so easily. “I suppose,” he said, pushing the notepad away from him as he washed his hands in the sink. 

“What? Did you think I’d give you some disbelieving spiel about how I refused to acknowledge the fact that the Mafia Families are weeds in the crack of every facet of society? We see evil constantly in our field, and I’m not naive enough to believe that every person who works for the government is some kind of saint.” 

“Well,” Kieran said, toweling off his hands, “I suppose I was expecting more of a reaction. After all, I  _ did  _ spend a few hours afterward trying to soothe my hand.”

“Disappointed?” Lauren snorted, turning the yellow pages toward herself to get a better look. “Perhaps you should try writing  _ neatly  _ instead of acting like you’re trying to summon a demon with your notes.” 

“They aren’t  _ that  _ bad,” he protested, leaning over the counter to take another look at his penmanship. “Normally, my notes are only for me. And I have no interest in summoning any more demons; I think you have enough with me,” he grinned, and Lauren rolled her eyes at his words, which only prompted him to continue. “And hey, don’t forget, that penmanship beat you in a case.” 

Lauren scowled immediately. “You did not  _ beat  _ me, I  _ dismissed  _ the case.”

“Whatever you say,  _ your Honor _ ,” he chuckled to himself as he poured boiling water into the coffee pot.

* * *

“Alright, so,” Kym began, gesturing with a mug of coffee. “What exactly are we planning to do now?” 

“Lauren mentioned having a plan of sorts,” Kieran murmured, turning to her slowly. “Go on, you have my full attention.” 

Lauren blinked, still not quite accustomed to his sincerity (that is, unless he was making some stupid excuse for why he had turned up to meet her after a case unannounced or trying to get on her nerves, but that was a different matter). She dug through her purse, whipping out the cream envelope she had picked out before leaving for work this morning and displayed it in front of everyone.

“This came in the mail yesterday, apparently.” 

Kieran nodded at her, reaching out a hand to hold the paper in his hands. “You are cordially invited… to…” he murmured, scanning the looping font on the paper. “Oh, I see you’ve been invited to Viscount Redcliff’s annual ball,” he smiled, handing the envelope back to her. “What a coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” 

“Yes, coincidence,” he grinned, reaching into one of the many drawers in the kitchen island to retrieve an identical envelope. “You see, the infamous ‘Beyond’ has also been  _ cordially invited  _ to the ball,” he quipped, throwing his air quotes with his fingers. “In fact, I’ve apparently been invited to be a member of the Opening Committee.”

Lauren groaned, earning her a shocked look from Kieran. “Great. Absolutely fantastic,” she sighed, holding her head in her hands. “It appears that at some point in time, I’ll be dancing with you. On the bright side, I suppose this makes for an easier plan.” 

Kieran smirked. “And, pray tell, what is this master plan of yours?”

Rolling her eyes, she nibbled at a piece of cheese before she continued. “We know that there are definitely more moles than we originally thought in the APD, and some of them would likely be in upper management. Redcliff always invites everyone from captain and above to his balls, so it’d probably be a perfect opportunity to try and get information out of people while they’re tipsy and dancing.”

Lukas hummed in agreement. "You're definitely right. If there's  _ one _ occasion where they are all in the same place, it's at the Annual Ball."

Will groaned, taking a large gulp of his coffee. “But  _ please  _ don’t remind me that I might end up dancing or chatting over drinks with a  _ traitor _ .” 

“Are you going too?” Kieran cocked an eyebrow in Will's direction, accepting the cup of tea Lila was offering him.

“Of cour–”

“Mr. William Hawkes here  _ always  _ goes to Redcliff’s ball,” Kym piped up, elbowing Will in the side. “He’s gone since he was a kid, due to  _ social status _ ,” she giggled, mocking Ardhalis’ obsession with its socioeconomic hierarchy.

“Well,” Will said, clearing his throat, “it seems like great minds think alike because I  _ also  _ brought my invitation to show you guys. I picked it up from the mailbox this morning.”

“You’re going to be on the opening committee this year, right?” Lauren asked, peeking over at the envelope in Will’s hands.

“How’d you guess?” 

“You literally just got promoted. And you’re  _ young, dashing, and tall _ , as the middle-aged gossiping groups say,” she jested, grinning at him. "Plus, you've been part of it since you were sixteen."

“Please don’t remind me–” 

“Great!” nodded Kieran, taking the opportunity to refill everyone’s mugs of coffee. “So it appears that Will, Lauren, and I will already be attending… I assume you and Lila aren’t," he said, briefly turning his attention to Lukas and Lila.

Lukas tipped his head to the side. "I can volunteer for duty. All I need is for Hawkes here to approve it and I'll be there."

Kieran shook his head. "No, you must have misunderstood me. You're not going."

Lukas squinted his eyes. " _ Excuse me? _ "

Kieran scoffed, gesturing with his palm at Lila. "Your wife is  _ pregnant _ , Lukas. You're not leaving her alone a whole night to parade in front of the mansion. We'll be perfectly fine without you."

Lila pouted at Kieran. "I am perfectly capable of staying home on my own, thank you very much."

"And I promised you I'd help you with this, White, and I intend to keep that promise."

Kieran glared at Lukas. “Well, Randall, in case you haven't realized, you're going to be a father, so you aren’t going  _ anywhere _ . You will stay at home to read with your wife and your cats, and that is  _ final _ ."

Lauren sat in the middle of the argument, wishing that she'd suddenly shrink to the size of the cheese cubes she awkwardly munched on, just so she could run away undetected. Lukas and Kieran glared at each other for a couple of seconds before Lukas relented, dropping back into his stool and crossing his arms with an unamused expression, but otherwise without protest. Kieran nodded triumphantly before turning to the others.

“Moving on to Kym,” he said, turning to face her. “Are you going?”

“Well, I…” she started sheepishly, clearly trying to ignore the argument that had just transpired. Kym shrugged languidly. “I didn’t get invited. I’ve only just been promoted, and my family’s not from the upper class. The only reason I’ve been there is that I’ve volunteered as security these past years. So in a way, yes,” she smiled brightly. “I might be there!”

Lauren glanced at Kieran, who was already waiting for her gaze as if their brains had sparked with the same wicked idea, and they shook their heads before turning to Will, smiling slyly at him. Will met their gazes with surprise.

“Say,” Kieran began, dragging the a and staring at Kym. “Do you think you could attend as a guest? It’d probably make it easier for you to actually talk to people if you weren’t on watch duty the whole night.” 

“That would mean I’d have to be asked out by one of the rich kids,” she cackled, raising her mug of coffee and winking.

A brief period of silence filled the room as Lauren continued to look at Will, resembling some sort of wide-eyed owl. Will widened his eyes gradually as realization finally washed over his face. Lauren tipped her head in Kym's direction. He gaped, quickly shaking his head while widening his eyes, but her eyes only grew more intense as Kieran distracted Kym with pointless alternatives to sneak her into the Ball.

No longer able to bear Lauren’s pointed gaze, Will sighed, and in response, Lauren put on a triumphant smile. Lila and Lukas stared in half-concealed amusement.

“Kym…” Will trailed off as he inhaled sharply. “You know… I haven’t found a date yet.” 

Kym blinked, slowly turning to face the slightly-flushed man. “I mean… yes, I suppose. I thought you went with Lauren every year?” 

“Would you perhaps like to be my date to the ball?" he said, exhaling slowly as he enunciated each syllable of his request as if the question was the single most strenuous thing he had ever done. A look of surprise was painted over the lieutenant’s face before she grinned widely, bouncing in her seat. 

“Do you mean I’ll  _ finally  _ get to see the insides of the ballroom?” she exclaimed, eyeing Will hopefully as if she thought he was merely joking. 

“Yes, Kym, that’s generally what it means to be a guest,” he snickered, shaking his head. “We’ll work out what we wear later, otherwise my father would lose his mind if we didn't even match.”

"How exciting! Matching clothes!"

“I’m planning to go for my dress later this week,” Lauren noted, smiling at her excited friend. “If you’d like, we can go together.” 

“ _ Absolutely _ ,” Kym responded, nodding enthusiastically. Then, as if remembering  _ why  _ she was going in the first place, she said: “As happy as I am to be attending one of the largest balls in Ardhalis… what exactly is our plan?” 

“Right,” Lauren nodded, clearing her throat. “So, I was planning to ask you two, since you’re most familiar with the APD hierarchy. We know that Harvey Wood was a Viper spy, correct?” 

“Mhm,” agreed Will, silently sipping his coffee as he tried –and failed– to return his face to its normal color. “And we know that Hermann was a Reaper.”

“We  _ also  _ know that Hermann was the one who reported Harvey. Harvey was murdered before anything could happen to him through the APD, and he was taken out by his own people. The only people who could have received the news were people who Hermann reported Harvey to, which means that at least  _ one _ of the people Hermann might have told is a Viper.” 

Will and Kym blinked, still trying to register what Lauren had just said. Evidently faster to accept the fact (for obvious reasons), Lukas was the next one to talk.

“So you’re trying to say that  _ at least  _ one of the higher level APD officials is a Viper associate?” 

“Correct,” Lauren said. “Now, all I have to figure out is how many other people Hermann could have had contact with.”

“Well,” huffed Kym. “we can thankfully eliminate anyone below Hermann. The man would never pass up the opportunity for a promotion, and he’d guard that morsel of intel with his life. He’d have to report to Commander Kelly above him, likely at one of the weekly meetings. Kelly would then report to Deputy Chief Sabbles.”

Wordlessly, Lila took a blank paper and began scribbling on it, following Kym's words as she wrote down names and connected them with lines.

“Do the commanders or deputy chiefs have regular meetings where they exchange information on their own areas?” asked Kieran, giving Lila a thankful nod.

“No, not regularly,” responded Will, leaning over the counter to look at the paper. “And when they do, they don’t really have much time to talk to each other. It’s generally  _ their  _ superiors talking.” 

“Which means that it’d continue going up through meetings, then,” noted Lila, who was looking increasingly concerned by the minute as the list grew. “If I remember correctly, from my time at the APD, there are three assistant chiefs in charge of the APD as a whole, and only one of them deals with the regular patrol units.” 

Will nodded. “Right. Assistant Chief Turner meets biweekly with Assistant Chief Hamill, who’s in charge of the special operation units and the detectives. They also meet with Assistant Chief Warren, who manages the more administrative and community-based aspects of the APD. They meet with Chief Hawkes and Special Assistant Hutchinson.” 

“Why do they meet so often?” asked Lauren. “Aren’t they busier?” 

“Yes, so only the most important news and information that could tarnish the APD’s reputation is brought up in those meetings,” sighed Will. “It really makes for an ineffective system, but it is what it is. Those three-and-a-half-hour meetings are already jam-packed.”

“So that makes for… one, two, three…” Lila began, counting off the people on the yellow page. “Seven people who have heard the news.”

Kieran nodded slowly. “And those people wouldn’t share the information with anyone else, I presume.” 

“No,” Will shook his head, turning both palms upwards to illustrate his point. “Some people either view it as a valuable piece of information for brownie points or view it as a disgrace to their name, so either way, it’d stay pretty quiet unless absolutely necessary.”

“There’s nothing the APD likes more than holding up their reputation and  _ damage control _ ,” Lukas grumbled.

“Great,” Lauren said, peeking over at the list Kieran was currently doodling tiny flowers on. “We’ll split the targets, then. Since Will will probably be busy entertaining his superiors, you and Kym can deal with three of the targets, and Kieran and I will take the other four.” 

“I think it’d make sense for you two to watch Chief Hawkes since it would definitely be awkward for Will to have to question his own father,” Lukas recommended, his nose pointing to the ceiling, deep in thought. “As far as I know, Hutchinson is pretty close to the Chief, so it might be easier for you to try and split them up so you can talk to them separately and actually get some information.”

“Alright,” Kym agreed. “We’ll take Warren, Hutchinson, and Kelly, then.” 

“And that leaves us with…” Lauren paused, sneaking a glance at the sheet beside her, “Sabbles, Turner, Hamill, and the Chief, then.”

With a final, decisive nod, Lauren leaned back, rubbing the back of her neck. “And since Will is taking Kym with him, I’ll have to figure out a way to shake off whoever my Uncle decides to set me up with...” she trailed off, sighing, her hands together in front of her pleading eyes. “If there’s a God above, may he please forbid uncle from pairing me with some pretentious prick.”

Kieran perked up at her words, his eyes widening slightly as an idea struck him, which he blurted out before he even gave it a second thought:

“We could always go together if you’d like.”

Everyone in the room froze mid-action. Kym nearly choked on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise before bursting into cackles, choking even further with a sound that nearly resembled that of an agonizing goose. Will reeled back from her before diving in to pat her back so she’d  _ breathe  _ properly. Thrown off at the ridiculous scene, Kieran focused back on Lauren’s surprised face, taking a slow inhale to explain himself as nonchalantly as possible.

“It’d eliminate the need to sneak away from whoever accompanies us, and I haven’t chosen a date, either. So yes, Ms. Sinclair, will you do me the honor of accompanying me on formality to Viscount Redcliff’s ball?”

Lauren blinked at him once, twice, before seemingly regaining her composure and thinking it over. “You know, that… That actually would be very helpful,” she began slowly, not believing her own words. “It’d please my Uncle and save me the headache of entertaining a random stranger,” she nodded. “I’ll be your date, Kieran.”

Kieran smiled, making a huge show of posing as he leaned onto the counter. “Well, Ms. Sinclair, a good date always matches the lady, so make sure to tell me what color you’ll be wearing so I can coordinate my outfit with yours.”

Lauren nodded. “Any color you wouldn’t like?”

Kieran presented her with a Cheshire grin. “No, any color is fine. Everything suits me.”

“ _ Dear gods, someone get them to stop flirting, _ ” Lukas muttered from his seat. “Just make out already, save us the trouble–”

Lila screeched, hitting her husband’s arm to shut him up, snapping a dangerous whisper of his name his way. Kym, who had been fighting back hysterical laughter all the time, leaned closer to Lukas raising her fist, and to everyone’s surprise, Lukas bumped his own against hers, earning yet another silent scolding from his wife. Will ignored the trio and began picking up the papers strewn on the counter.

“I think that settles it, then. We should be good to go with these preparations–”

“Actually–” Kieran interrupted him, stopping himself in doubt. He looked at Lukas in a silent question before Lukas nodded slowly, taking Lila’s hand with a deep breath as if preparing for a blow. Kieran sighed and faced Kym and Will. “There’s something you have to know before we continue with this.”

Lauren’s eyes widened, her hand flying to the cuff of Kieran’s sleeve, tugging on it to stop him. “Kieran, no–”

“It’s alright,” Kieran exhaled, still looking straight at Kym and Will. “If they are going to get involved, they need to know what kind of mess they’ll be getting into.”

“But–”

“There’s something about me you don’t know,” Kieran started, ignoring Lauren. Kym and Will exchanged a nervous glance but remained unaffected otherwise. Kieran’s hand squeezed his right arm before coming to the rolled sleeves and tugging them up, and Lukas shook off his jacket before mimicking Kieran’s actions.

Exactly in the spot where the arm could be confused as shoulder, both men had identical marks: a small tattoo of a black scythe, surrounded by a circle and with crocus flowers wrapped around the snath. It was an emblem that had haunted the city for generations, appearing in ominous messages painted with blood on walls or carved in the chest of victims. Anyone could easily identify it as easily as they would the one with the dangerous viper curled in the shape of a droplet.

The Reaper Family emblem.

Will jumped back, out of his seat, tugging Kym with him as they stared in shock at the marks. Instinctively, his hand flew to his belt, fingers searching for a gun but finding none because he surely wasn’t expecting to find himself facing criminals today; he was almost sure Kym kept one with herself all the time, but she didn’t whip it out and he wasn’t about to search her to find it. Their eyes jumped from Lukas to Kieran, stunned, and Kieran began explaining before they could collect themselves or mutter a single question.

“I was kidnapped when I was fourteen, by the previous Leader,” Kieran explained, dropping his sleeve back down to hide the tattoo. “He raised me to be his puppet, but he was assassinated before I could commit any crimes in his name.”

Kym gasped. “ _ Kidnapped? _ ”

Lauren had to fight back her own shock. He never told her that he’d been kidnapped; in fact, her knowledge of how he came to be in the Reapers was still quite limited, but there wasn’t a lie in his words.

Will stared at Lukas, his gaze hardened. “And you?”

Lukas squeezed Lila’s hand. “Voluntarily joined when I was sixteen, unaware of what I was getting myself into. It was too late to leave by the time I realized.”

“But not late enough to stop Inar Brenner from staining Lukas’ hands,” Kieran clarified, his arm shooting in front of the couple defensively. “We never committed any crimes, but leaving is not as easy. We’re still working on that.”

“Why join in the first place, then?”

“I already told you, I didn’t have a choice in that.”

“And not all of us are born in a golden crib, with two hundred maids and a dozen of tutors,” Lukas grunted, his eyes dropping to the surface of the counter. “Some of us make stupid decisions when we’re short on money, have a family to feed, and debts to pay.”

“If it reassures you in some way,” Kieran said. “We’re only part of the Family by name. It’d be… complicated, to explain the whole situation, but all you need to know is that the current Leader and I have come to an agreement of sorts. We’re not criminals, and we certainly won’t be anytime soon.”

“You knew of this,” Will muttered, staring at Lauren in disbelief, and she stood up next to Kieran, ready to face Will’s wrath, forgetting for a moment that her friend had never been one to give in to anger, always holding back. Instead, he almost looked betrayed and disappointed.

That probably hurt more than his rage.

“I did,” Lauren affirmed, clenching her heart so her voice wouldn’t quiver.

Kym frowned. “For how long?”

Lauren sighed. “Long enough. Before the deal.”

Will’s hands ran through his hair, disbelief painted over his face. He had the look of someone whose whole world was crashing down, and Lauren couldn’t blame him. For the longest time, they had had no secrets. They had been raised practically as siblings, and Lauren guessed there weren’t a lot of things that could possibly hurt more than the betrayal of a sister.

She could almost see the heartbreak in his blue eyes, but when he talked, he didn’t allow it to show.

Will shook his head. “I can’t believe you,” he murmured quietly at Lauren before turning to Kieran. “Even if you claim to never have committed a crime, how do you expect us to trust you?”

Lauren stepped towards him, taking his hands in hers and looking at him in the eye with an almost pleading expression. “I trust them,” Lauren stated, squeezing Will’s knuckles. “You’ll have to trust me, as always, Will.  _ Please _ .”

There was one more period of tense silence to the hundred of others that had transpired that afternoon, and Kym cut it with a grip to Will’s shoulder and an uncharacteristic calm:

“I trust them, Will.”

Will turned to meet her eyes, shocked once again. “You  _ do _ ?”

Kym shrugged. “I want to. I trust Lauren, and if she trusts them, then so do I,” she grinned, turning to look at Lauren this time. “After all, which one of us can hear lies here, huh?”

Lauren laughed, flinging her arms around Kym and hugging her tightly, whispering a quick thank you in her ear. Then, Lauren turned to Will, taking his hand again as her other arm remained embracing Kym.

“ _ Please _ ,” Lauren pleaded.

Will lifted his head, meeting Kieran’s eyes, then Lukas’ and then Lila’s – _ Lila _ , of all people. They were expecting his words, his reaction, Lukas and Lila with their hands intertwined and Kieran’s palm resting on top of theirs. He didn’t want to trust them, evidently. Lauren was well aware of Will’s perspectives about the differentiation between right and wrong. She might even say that they could be even more unyielding than her own. For him, it wasn’t simply a concept. For him, it was a matter of duty. Duty, duty, duty. It was always what someone else wanted, what someone else  _ expected _ . Tristan had never forced Lauren to do anything, and whenever she humored one of his requests it was always done out of consideration towards her uncle, out of  _ gratitude _ . Will hadn’t had the same liberty.

Especially not after Rafael.

Will had always been one to trust too easily. Lauren had warned him before that it would come to bite him back someday.

But still, he trusted.

Will sighed. “I’m doing this against my better judgment–”

“You do a lot of things against your better judgment–”

“Shut up, Ladell,” Kym giggled at his retort, and Will shook his head with a single breathy laugh, Kym’s intervention effectively dissipating some of the tension. “I must be going insane, truly. But you know what? To hell with it. I don’t think I can say I’m surprised after everything we’ve discovered about Hermann. At least I know you are doing something about it.”

Kym squealed in celebration, jumping to hug Will from behind at the same time Lauren hugged him from the front, causing the three of them to almost fall to the wooden floor if it weren’t for the quick reflexes that stabilized them. Kieran, Lukas, and Lila released relieved sighs.

“You gave us quite the scare there, Captain,” Kieran said.

Will glared at him and Lukas slightly. “You two owe us an explanation, more than _ it’s complicated _ .”

Lauren stared back at Kieran. “Were you really kidnapped?”

Kieran dismissed the question with a wave of his hands. “Stories for another moment, darling. For now, we need to focus on the task at hand.”

“Redcliff’s Ball,” Kym declared as they all surrounded the kitchen island again. “Seven targets, at least one Viper.”

“None of them are Reapers, I can confirm that,” Kieran declared. “If one of them was part of the Family, I would know.”

“None of the APD superiors will leave the event any time before midnight, I’m sure. They have appearances to keep, and that’ll be enough time to talk to everyone. I think we’ve got all our bases covered.”

“Not all of them,” Will showed the list to Lauren. “The numbers are tipped against us. Seven of them, four of us. It’s made clear Lukas is not coming, but we’ll still need to have someone keeping an eye on everyone else while the rest of us are busy with the targets.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Kieran nodded. “We need an extra pair of eyes.”

“Lukas should go,” Lila declared.

Lukas shook his head. “No,  _ Mother Kieran _ would never allow it,” he groaned, glaring at his best friend from the side.

“Exactly. I’m not putting you on the line more than necessary, Randall. You’re having a child,” Kieran sighed. “We’ll have to figure something else”

“If you let me…” Lauren interrupted them, a grin slowly parting her lips. “I know  _ just  _ the right man to help us.”

Kym tipped her head to the side. “And who might that be?”

Lauren smiled at her, lifting a finger and trailing her fingernail down her left cheek.

“A very good friend of mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, Waters here!
> 
> Well, the secret's out for good. Will is feeling #betrayed but he'll put up with it because at the point, there's nobody else he actually comes CLOSE to trusting. Poor man, having his world crumble down on him. Someone give Will Hawkes a proper coffee date.
> 
> SOOOOO YOU'RE WELCOME. This is "ask your friend to prom in a TOTALLY platonic way" hours for us, and you are indeed very welcome for the food. We are here to serve *bows*. Will is once again taking the brunt of our social torture. Poor, poor man. We aren't sorry.
> 
> Kieran is honestly just a mom at this point. Juncle gym? More like "odd moments of domineering motherly tendencies". I don't think the man can comprehend the fact that Lauren actually said YES to being his date, but he's rolling with it. It's all that attorney-hold-your-emotions-together training coming into use, otherwise he'd literally be bouncing off the walls.
> 
> SOOOOOO THE FUN PART. As y'all know....we hit 5k. In 2 chapters. Y'all really said, "forget 4k, we getting to 5k." So, as promised, y'all get a myriad of things from us. AND THANK YOU FOR 250 KUDOS, TOO.
> 
> First up: Moonlighters Logo. I drew this before the idea even came to me, but I think it was meant to be.
> 
> Second: An image of Jovie Brenner....for no good reason. But you know what she looks like (with long hair)
> 
> Third: I promised ducc cracc, but because of personal responsibilities and some tech issues...that will be delayed (forgive me). BUT:
> 
> (an alternate version of the logo if this had been a cracc fic-)
> 
> * * *
> 
> OKAY BUT. BECAUSE WE PROMISED AN EVENT...THIS IS A Q&A NOW. ASK US ANYTHING, personal or fic related. You can address questions to both of us, one of us, or whatever you'd like. We'll get to them :)) PLEASE ASK US ANYTHING, I PROMISE WE WILL ANSWER LITERALLY ANYTHING (that doesn't spoil things). 
> 
> ALSO, PICK A SCENE IF YOU'D LIKE, and if there's actual planning conversation involved, we'll show you some of the crackhead convos that went into them :)
> 
> Okay, that's enough of me screaming for now...thank you all **so** much for reading, we love you all. As always, comments (which we expect many of, because there are facets of us waiting to be EXPOSED), kudos, and bookmarks are always appreciated.


	23. Temporary Tunes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Stefan picked up his cutlery, slicing his steak with more force than needed, clearly frustrated. “I expect you to reserve a dance for Ms. Darcy, then. Remember: I don’t want any more disappointments.”
>> 
>> Will still didn’t raise his gaze.
>> 
>> “Yes, Father.”  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **DISCLAIMER:** The storyline of _The Moonlighters_ was created before the release of _Purple Hyacinth's_ Episode 67, and the storyline of Arc 2 fully fleshed out a little before Weary William was released for Fast Pass. Thus, from this point on, as the plot of _The Moonlighters_ shifts its focus a little more on Will, there are some aspects that were merely speculation on our part. As the Webtoon's episodes are released, we try to incorporate any new information we're given into the story (for example, the introduction Rafael Hawkes), in order to stay as true to the original lore-wise. However, we've had to take some creative liberties as well to make the plot of _The Moonlighters_ work with our plans. So if you see any inconsistencies with canon, that's one of the creative liberties we took.
> 
> Also, we've put together music for this chapter, so please listen to the soundtrack when it is linked! :)

T he Hawkes Estate was as imposing as it was beautiful.

Built out of stone, wood, and white walls, it stood regal and proud amongst the cobblestone, the tall trees, and the garden; his mother’s garden. Josephine loved that garden, and it had been preserved exactly as it had been years ago, down to every single detail, just so every time she could leave the bed –only on her best days– and wished to go, she would be met by the same beautiful scenery she had fallen in love with so long ago.

“Good evening, young master William,” greeted him one of the butlers, bowing – Carson, if he remembered correctly.

“Good evening,” Will replied, smiling politely. “Is Father home already?”

“He’s waiting for you at the dining room, young master.”

Will nodded. “I must not make him wait any longer, then. Thank you very much, you are dismissed.”

He took off towards the dining room, giving the staff quick smiles and head gestures as he walked. He had managed to shake off his father’s demands to meet him for a little while, excusing himself behind his work as the newly appointed Captain and all the responsibilities it represented. Truly, when he told his father he was too busy to meet him, he was not lying. The Precinct was in dire need of some reorganizing, and he had been going back and forth, talking to the Heads of the different units and solving problems that had appeared during the period of the investigation.

He wasn’t in the best state of mind, either. He had to admit he was still feeling quite shaken after the revelation during the meeting on Sunday. A part of him told him that there was no reason for him to be so surprised. Admittedly, he should’ve seen it coming. He was well aware of Beyond’s reputation and the rumors of his clients being mainly criminals related to the mafia, and Lukas himself had, on occasions, displayed behaviors that should’ve warned him about it. He was still feeling quite betrayed at the situation, especially since Lauren had been the one to keep it from him. He wasn’t nearly as close to Kieran and Lukas as he was to Lauren, so of course, it was the knowledge that she had kept the secret that hurt him the most.

Still, he couldn’t help but understand – a blessing and a curse, he supposed, this ability he had to  _ understand _ . Being honest to himself, he doubted the William of a month ago wouldn’t have arrested them then and there because that would’ve been the right thing to do, and Lauren too, for the association. But the things he knew now probably were what stopped him. Too many secrets and crooked people, and of course, a part of him still kept in mind Kym’s words of the day they had found the file on Hermann:  _ If one of them gives you away and they come after you, what will you do? _

Will rubbed his eyelids with a tired sigh. He couldn’t do anything at all. Currently, all his faith was placed on two attorneys and their personal vendettas, apparently, because he couldn’t even trust the people at his workplace.

What a messed up situation.

“Good evening, Mr. Hawkes,” Jane bowed from a side of the corridor as she saw him approaching.

Will stopped briefly, smiling at Jane. She was one of the maids who had been working for the longest time here, and he had come to have an inkling of affection towards the woman. She was always diligent in her labors and pushed herself a bit too hard when working, and however worrying it was, it reminded him of himself. Will bowed his head towards Jane.

“Good evening, Ms. Johnson.”

“Pardon me, young master, but you seem tired,” Jane folded her hands over her apron. “Will you be staying the night, sir? I can get your room prepared for you.”

“I will be staying, but I can get my room on my own, thank you. You should go rest, Ms. Johnson.”

“I will, Mr. Hawkes.”

“Do you, perhaps, know how Mother has been today?”

Jane’s smile softened. “She’s been feeling very well today. She was in the garden in the morning, but I believe she returned to her chambers for lunch.”

Will released a relieved sigh. “That’s good to hear. I’ll be with Father, then. Thank you, Ms. Johnson.”

“It’s good to see you around again, young master. Congratulations on your promotion.”

Will chuckled, walking away. “You’re too kind, Jane.”

As he watched the woman wander away down the imposing halls of the Hawkes Estate, the smile on his face melted off, twisting into a bittersweet expression of worry. 

* * *

Kym stepped into the boutique, stunned by the explosion of lush colors that greeted her.

She wasn’t quite sure if she was more excited or anxious for their shopping spree today; after all, she had never gone dress shopping with Lauren. Of course, they had gone shopping together before, on the rare incidents in which one of them needed a new set of clothes and a second opinion. Lauren had even helped her choose the jumpsuit she had worn for Lila’s and Lukas’ wedding. But a private garden wedding and a ball with Ardhalis’ elite and Kym’s superiors were  _ vastly  _ different occasions, and there was something about that fact that slightly unnerved her.

Lauren, however, seemed to have no such concern. Taking Kym by the hand, she tucked Kym’s arm into her elbow, tugging her along the long aisles of dresses that filled the showroom.

“Okay,” Lauren began, stealing a glance at her wristwatch. “We’re half an hour early, which is  _ perfect _ . It should give us enough time to look around and get an idea of what we’re looking for.” 

“Wait, hold on.” Kym stopped. “ _ We _ ? Lauren, I don’t think I can  _ afford  _ one of these. I haven’t even gotten this month’s paycheck, and even if I had, I would feel guilty for spending so much in a dress I might only wear once or twice–” 

“Yes,  _ we _ , Kym,” Lauren broke into a grin. “Didn’t you know? I asked for your free day for a  _ reason _ . I booked appointments for  _ both  _ of us, silly,” she beamed, leaning her head on Kym’s. “And don’t worry about the cost. The dress is on me.”

Seeing the way Kym was about to protest, Lauren tutted, holding up a finger. “Now, none of your arguments. You can pay for dinner, but there is  _ no way  _ you’re paying for the outfit you’re wearing to the first ball of your life. Take it as an early birthday gift from me.” 

Kym groaned, shaking her head. “ _ Fine, _ ” she huffed. “I  _ know  _ you’re going to insist on getting me something for my birthday anyway.” A bright smile glowed on her face as she extended a tentative hand to gently brush against a satin dress. “I  _ would  _ be lying if I said I wasn’t a  _ tad  _ excited walking in and seeing so many gorgeous dresses. I’ve never worn something this beautiful, I’d be happy to have any of these in the racks.” 

“You’re not getting just a dress from the rack, you’ll be getting your  _ own  _ dress, custom-made for you and you  _ alone _ ,” Lauren squeezed Kym’s shoulders tenderly, dragging her around the shop. “It’s going to be so  _ exciting.  _ Let’s look around to see if there’s anything that catches your attention since Nyra is usually packed around this time because of the ball. You’ll see, you’re gonna love her. Do you know what color you’d like?”

“Uh…” Kym hesitated. “I’m actually not sure? What color is Will–”

“Oh,  _ forget _ about Will for just a moment,” Lauren teased, poking Kym’s side. “I know it  _ must  _ be difficult to get him off your mind, but you heard what Kieran said:” she said, raising her hands in mockery of the defense attorney. “A good date always matches the lady. Let  _ dear Will _ worry about matching  _ you  _ later.”

“ _Okay, listen_ ,” Kym retorted, pointing at Lauren and matching her teasing stare. “I’ll pick a color, but I won’t have you forgetting anytime soon: _you_ are going with _Kieran_. Who, must I remind you, you despised mere three months ago. Weren’t you complaining to us how big of an _infuriating, despicable_ –”

“So about that color–” Lauren intoned, swatting Kym’s hand away, and she laughed at the nearly imperceptible flush on her friend’s cheeks.

Kym accepted the diversion, taking another good look at her surroundings. The shop was big, and certainly very different from what she had expected. The whole place was an explosion of colors and organized chaos where every piece of fabric formed a masterpiece, every gown more beautiful than the previous one, displayed on mannequins to create the picture-perfect image of creativity. She could only imagine how long each of these garments took to craft when they seemed to be done with passion down to every tiny stitch.

Kym ran her hands down the taffeta skirt of a red dress. “Something lighter would be nice, I don’t think I could wear a bright color. What do  _ you  _ plan to wear?”

“I was thinking of something blue,” she took a trumpet dress from one of the racks, holding the periwinkle fabric in front of Kym. “I wore green last year.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to move in this,” Kym laughed, holding the dress closer to her, examining the way it was meant to hug around the hips before flaring right above the knees. “It’s already bad enough that I can’t dance to save my life, and I don’t want to embarrass myself by  _ tripping _ .”

Lauren cocked an eyebrow up. “What do you mean? You dance just fine.”

“For a party, maybe, but I can’t ballroom dance,” Kym shrugged as Lauren put the dress back in its place. “I vaguely remember dad tried to teach me the waltz when I was little. It went terrible.”

Lauren stared at Kym in surprise. “I didn’t know you couldn’t ballroom dance! We’ll have to fix that before the ball. What will you do if Will asks you for a dance?”

“You’re  _ really  _ pushing it, Sinclair.”

Lauren burst out laughing, taking Kym’s hand and dragging her deeper into the shop. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But really, you’ll be alright, Will is a great dancer and I’ll make sure you know the basics, at least, on time.”

“I truly am surprised you two aren’t engaged. Didn’t you say you went to every event together since you were, what, ten?”

“More or less,” Lauren scoffed. “Saved us both loads of trouble. And I thought we’d agreed to not talk about that again ages ago.”

It was Kym’s turn to laugh. “An eye for an eye, my friend!”

“You’re  _ insufferable _ .”

“So was Kieran and now you’re dating–”

“We are  _ not  _ dating–”

* * *

It wasn’t that Will didn’t love his parents. Surely, he did, especially his mother. However, he was never quite at ease in his childhood home, which was filled with an air of faux homeliness that never really seemed to set him at ease. He’d seen how both Lauren and Kym seemed to be immediately reenergized by merely stepping through the doors of their homes, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty that instead of feeling a gush of warmth and comfort through his veins, the Hawkes Estate would only ever bring him a sense of anxiety and unnerve him.

Perhaps it wasn’t always like this. After all, he had lived here until he had gone off to the Academy and had many sun-kissed memories of long hours in the garden with his mother. Truly, Will didn’t quite remember when that had changed. He supposed that it didn’t matter, anyway. What’s broken can never truly be the same.

His father definitely wasn’t intending to have dinner with him as a celebration of his promotion; no, Will knew better than that. Stefan Hawkes’ expectations for his younger son were endless, ripping into his self-worth endlessly like the many rows of a shark’s teeth. Will couldn’t remember the last time he had a pleasant dinner with his father. It must have been before his mother had become too ill to eat with them in the dining room.

“Father,” he greeted, standing as straight as he would if he had passed the Chief in the hallways of the precinct. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” 

Stefan looked up from the paperwork he was reading, staring unamusedly at his son. “Have a seat, William.” 

Will nodded grimly, pulling out a chair at the opposite end of the table. “I’ll be staying over tonight since I haven’t seen Mother in a while.” 

Stefan nodded impassively, gesturing at one of the maids to bring them their dinner. “That’s fine. I suppose I have yet to congratulate you directly on your promotion. Congratulations,” he said, sipping his whiskey. 

Will clenched his jaw, already anticipating what was coming next. “I’ll be waiting for when you become a commander,” his father quipped. “I don’t expect it to take any more than a few years.” 

_ Hermann was in his position for over a decade. _ “Yes, Father,” Will replied, sipping at his glass of wine. “I will try my best.” 

“ _ Try _ ?” Stefan asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at his son. “We don’t  _ try _ , William, we do things. The weight of the name of the family will fully fall on your shoulders once I retire, which shouldn’t take too long. I don’t expect to be Chief of police all my life, but someone has to take over my position,” he tossed Will a pointed look as the butlers set their dinner in front of them. “And of course, that will be you.”

Will pretended to be greatly interested in the pouring of the wine, despite knowing full well that the butlers all were capable of flawlessly serving it. It gave him an excuse to not look his father in the eye when he replied: “Of course, Father.”

“I will not tolerate any more disappointments. Five years as a Lieutenant, and it took Captain Hermann’s murder for you to get promoted? You slacked, William, not to mention that you failed the test the first time.”

Will’s grip on the cutlery tightened as he defended himself. “It’s been years since that occurrence, Father, and I have always excelled. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope so,” Stefan nodded curtly, closing the conversation. Will allowed the silence to linger for a few seconds before talking again. He was accustomed to this dynamic where his father would finish whatever he had to say to him about something and expect Will to bring up something else. Their conversations never had anything new, per se. He simply followed the script in what his next focus would be, as always.

“Have you heard about Mother’s state? The maids told me she was feeling well enough today to leave her bedroom.”

As always, something in Stefan softened almost imperceptibly, as whenever Josephine was brought up. Will wasn’t sure if this was due to affection of some sorts towards his wife, but still, it put him a little more at ease as well, tension leaving his shoulders as he bit into a piece of steak.

“Yes, I have been told. It’s good to hear, but I can’t help but worry. Ill people suddenly feeling better is not always the good news it may seem like; it could mean bad news for the near future.”

Will tensed again, his throat closing and barely swallowing his steak in time so he wouldn’t choke with it. He swallowed a bit of wine, clearing his throat and saying. “Mother’s health goes up and down, it has been like that for years, Father. I don’t think it’s something to worry about.”

“We can only hope you’re right, William,” Stefan took a sip of his wine as well, stopping a second to examine the reflection of the light over the spotless crystal. “Tell me about the Viscount’s Ball, son. Will you be attending with Ms. Sinclair this year as well?” Will tensed at the question, his every muscle reacting to the mention not only of the ball and his potential date but also of the mission they had, of the possibility of the Viper amongst the higher-ranking officials.

Stefan’s name was on the list; he hadn’t forgotten.

Unaware of his son’s train of thought, Stefan continued: “Ms. Sinclair is a lovely woman, and she’s Tristan’s niece, she’s got a great social standing as a Sinclair.”

“Father–”

“I know you have no intention of courting her, for whatever ridiculous reason,” Stefan looked exasperated at the topic, as he always did whenever they talked about Lauren and Will’s refusal to make any advances on a woman who could very well be his sister. In the end, it was a little Stefan’s fault, too. When he allowed them to spend so much time together as children, surely in hopes that romance would spring naturally and he wouldn’t have to worry about arranging a marriage, he had lit his plans on fire himself.

Will still remembered, although not fondly, the time he had confronted his father about it. He was twelve, stupid, and had overheard the wrong conversation between his father and Lauren’s parents. That was the day he learned to never raise his voice to Stefan Hawkes.

“If you do not plan to marry your  _ friend _ , you should consider attending the ball with someone else. You’re twenty-six already, William. We’ve delayed your marriage for far too long. Have you considered Lord Darcy’s daughter, as I asked? Lovely woman, and she’s your age, it’s a miracle she’s still single.”

“Actually, Father…” Will breathed in. “I am attending the Viscount’s Ball with someone else this year. Lauren will be attending with a different date.”

“That’s wonderful news, both for you and Ms. Sinclair!” Stefan declared, looking ecstatic like very few times Will had ever seen him. It made cold sweat run down his spine. “Ms. Sinclair has a wonderful career, but it’s about time she settles down, too. Who are you taking to the ball this year, son?”

Will’s mouth ran dry. He dampened his tongue with a bit of wine, praying the taste would give him some bravery before blurting out his answer:

“I asked out my Lieutenant, Father,” he cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Kym Ladell?”

Stefan stopped eating, his composure faltering at the words his son had uttered. Will almost wished that a lighting bolt would fall on his head and kill him already, it would be ten times more pleasant than facing his father’s wrath. Quickly, Will explained:

“She’s incredibly skilled, a prodigy, and she has the best marksmanship in the whole precinct. I did not ask her with any kind of romantic intention, but I thought it’d be a good opportunity for her to mingle with her superiors and get in touch with the higher side of society, now that she’s climbed ranks...”

Stefan set his cutlery down, resting his chin on top of his hands, and Will finished his ramblings at the exact moment Stefan set his cold stare straight on Will. He gulped quietly, lowering his head in practiced submission.

“If you’ve already asked her, the damage is done. I hope what you’ve said is true, William, and that you do not have any kind of romantic intention towards her. It will only soil your good name,” Stefan picked up his cutlery, slicing his steak with more force than needed, clearly frustrated. “I expect you to reserve a dance for Ms. Darcy, then. Remember: I don’t want any more disappointments.”

Will still didn’t raise his gaze.

“Yes, Father.”

* * *

Kym had chosen a lovely grey color and Lauren flowy chiffon in a hue of blue so dark it almost appeared to be black when the modiste finally made her entrance. Kym stared in awe at the gorgeous woman, who was tactfully and firmly explaining why the cut she fancied was not ideal to her client. The modiste –Nyra Liem, Lauren had said– finished her explanation with a raised palm as if to stop any further words the woman had to say.

“That’d be all for today, Lady Walcott, I’m afraid I have other clients to attend to. We’ll further discuss this at your next appointment.”

Lady Walcott huffed indignantly, but if she had something to tell the modiste, she didn’t say it. Instead, she bowed her head respectfully before making her way to the door. “See you next time, then, Lady Liem.”

Nyra sighed, her eyes scanning over the patrons inside the showroom before spotting Lauren, her lips curling back right up in a smile.

“Ms. Sinclair!” she greeted, quickly making her way to them with the hem of her pleather coat skimming her calves.

“Lady Liem,” Lauren approached the woman and they exchanged a quick cheek kiss before Lauren turned to Kym again. “This is my friend, Kym Ladell.”

Nyra smiled, taking the hand Kym offered her to shake. “A pleasure, Lady Ladell.”

Kym chuckled. “I’m not a Lady, in fact, but it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Lady Liem.”

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for long,” Nyra looked around, sending a flash of fragmented light flying from her earrings, one longer than the other, when they caught the cold light coming from the windows. “I’m deeply sorry if you have, I haven’t stopped working all day. The Viscount’s Ball is just around the corner and everyone wants to look their best.”

“I’m afraid we are here for that too,” Lauren chuckled. “I hope we take some of the workload off by telling you we’ve already seen some things we like.”

Nyra grinned at these words, her hands placed neatly at each hip, looking almost like something taken out of a fashion cover –Kym wouldn’t be surprised if that wasn’t far from reality. She was elegant and poised, practiced on her heeled boots, and with straight hair akin to the color of wenge, dark and a little earthy. It took Kym just a second too long to realize she was being examined, and she nearly jerked back at the realization, having missed the discussion about their selected colors in her own observation of the modiste in front of her.

Nyra laughed. “Grey will certainly look nice on you,” she noted, guiding them deeper into the shop and towards the door she had emerged from.

Lady Liem’s atelier matched the state of the showroom. There were draped fabrics hanging from shelves and walls, an ornate desk littered with various art supplies, and a half-closed door that hid the sewing room that seemed to be in even more chaos than the main room. Nyra moved in the place like a cat, knowing the place by heart and picking up her notepad.

“Now, I’m pretty familiar with your style, Ms. Sinclair,” Nya started, motioning to the loveseat to have them take a seat and settling on the armchair herself. “So– Let’s begin with you, Ms. Ladell. Do you have something, in particular, you might like for your dress? A preferred cut, shape?”

Kym opens her mouth, then closes it, taking a moment to consider the question. She’d scarcely ever had to think this hard for a dress, not even when she was younger and participated in about every wedding of the neighbors. Everyone loved the Ladell sisters, so they went together everywhere, and in the past, she had trusted Daena to give her the correct choices in the times they had searched for dresses. She thought back to those, as reference, thought what had been comfortable for her past self and prayed it still applied to the grown woman she was.

“Perhaps… Something without a lot of layers, yes. Something I won’t trip on, my superiors will be there and I’d like to make a good impression,” she doesn’t mention the fact that she’d be spying on said superiors, but she notices it crosses Lauren’s mind, too, in the way she shifts and crosses her leg, her hands bunching up the cloth of her pants. Kym continued. “Something I can move in, basically. I’d like it to be long, though. I don’t want to look out of place.”

“It’s your first time going to the Viscount’s Ball, Miss?”

“It is.”

“Perfect,” Nyra hummed. “Would you mind standing here, on this platform? I might have something outside that would give us a good starting point.”

Kym did as told, standing in the round platform in front of the three-way mirror, catching Lauren’s encouraging smile in the three reflections before the modiste is back, carrying a gown with her. She caressed the skirt with the gloved hand. “Try this on. Do you feel comfortable changing here?”

“Oh, yes, that’s fine.”

The gown consisted of a gathered A-line skirt and long sleeves cuffed at her wrists, the top embroidered with an asymmetrical design that went from one arm to the opposite side’s hip, cascading down the side of the leg. It was pretty and made her feel like a princess, and though she had rarely ever envisioned this, the feeling was certainly wonderful.

“Now look at this and tell me how you feel in it,” Nyra said, adjusting the sleeves. “What do you like about it?”

Kym hummed, examining herself in the mirror for a minute before replying. “I love the sleeves,” she gestured to her neckline. “This is beautiful, I really like it. I was worried I wouldn’t find something without a suffocating neckline, but this is really nice. The color, however…”

Nyra waved her hand, the one with the rings instead of the glove, in the air to dismiss her worries as her eyes roamed over her shelves. “Don’t mind the color, I just need you to use a bit of your imagination,” she pulled a roll of fabric from the shelf, in the grey color Kym had chosen, and walked back to Kym, letting the fabric fall over the yellow of the gown she had on. “Try to imagine this cut and shape, in this color. Would you like that?”

Kym smiled, nodding. “Yes, that’d be perfect,” she lightly kicked her feet forwards, careful to not stain the fabric, testing the range of mobility and frowning lightly when the tip of her foot dragged back a bit of the hem. “The skirt is nice, too, but… I don’t know, I’m just not used to it, but it’s not like I can go to a ball in pants.”

Nyra grinned, pulling back the fabric and setting it on the armchair she had previously been sitting on, picking up her sketchbook and a pencil. “I might have an idea for that, the best of both worlds. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with your first time wearing one of my gowns.”

“I trust you to make her look her best, Nyra,” Lauren laughed.

“Oh,  _ please _ , Ms. Sinclair,” she grinned at her over her shoulder, her hand already sketching swift lines on the paper. “When have I ever made you look anything but, hm?”

* * *

Will sighed, thankful that his father had to leave the house for an appointment of some sort as he ambled slowly towards his mother’s room. 

It had been over two weeks since he’d last seen Josephine; the last time he visited, she wasn’t in much of a mood to talk, anyway. It had been a while since she had the energy to even look at him for longer than half an hour, and he had discovered that he had long ago stopped allowing his mood to plummet and soar with every call from the doctors updating him on his mother’s condition. He had learned to smile through the moments when his mother’s memory failed her and she called for his brother. He couldn’t blame her. With each passing day, Will became more devastatingly similar to Rafael.

He trailed his hand along the carvings on his mother’s door, smilingly gently at the memories from his childhood, when he would sneak into her room and leap under her covers in giggling fits. He’d wake up first, then go to Rafael’s room to drag him with him (because the door was too heavy and Rafael was taller and stronger) and they’d both nestle with their mother, who would always greet them with a loving smile and warm arms that’d hug them close as they drifted back to sleep. Despite having gone years since the last time he had begged his mother to tell him a bedtime story, there was still something about the scent of her room and the slight creak of her door that brought him a spark of childish joy. 

[Josephine’s room was dark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaiLAN-kSVg&feature=youtu.be), heavy blackout curtains preventing the faint moonlight from leaking into the room. 

_ The maids always insisted on not allowing anything to disturb her naps. _

Will padded toward the curtains, slowly tugging them back to allow the little specks of dust to become illuminated by the faint light ghosting through the sheer curtains. He coughed quietly, noting to himself to ask one of the maids to deal with the thin films of dust that had coated the blinds. 

His mother was still fast asleep, a soft comforter pulled up to her chin, the faded blonde of her hair spread on the pillow, and few were the occasions where she looked so normal if one could only ignore the sunken eyes and the thin cheeks. For a second, Will wondered if the doctor had finally found a way to cure her ailments.

Throughout the years, and despite her decaying health, Josephine had insisted on keeping the small studio piano in her room. The dark brown wood had been impeccably cared for, ready for the good days. Will wasn’t sure when the last time his mother had the strength to press down the keys of the piano, but still, it was there.

> _ “My… my fingers aren’t strong enough,” Will groaned, burying his face in his tiny hands. “I can’t play the chords like you and Rafa do,  _ maman _.” _
> 
> _ Josephine always looked at ease sitting in front of a piano, her smile soft and true, and the large windows by their side would allow the sun to illuminate her, turning her golden hair in a halo of beauty and grace. Will was only six, but couldn’t help but think that all the other ladies couldn’t compare to her. _
> 
> _ She pulled back the large sleeves of her dress, taking Will’s hands in her own. _
> 
> _ “It’s alright,  _ mon trésor _ ,” Josephine grinned as she rearranged his fingers on the keys. “Here, I’ll play them with you. You’ll grow into it soon.”  _

Though it had been decades since he had needed his mother’s reassuring fingers over his to play the piano, whenever he sat down on the bench, he could almost feel  _ maman _ ’s reassuring palm on his shoulder as she beamed next to him, encouraging him to hold his hands in position as he practiced scales. 

It was almost an unspoken agreement. Whenever the boys spent the night in her room, they would wake up to their mother’s improvised melodies on the piano, sweeter than any song a bird could sing from the open windows. They would spend the free mornings next to her, practicing and laughing as a chaotic session of piano six hands ensued.

> _ “That’s not the right key, Will!” Rafael shrieked, both boys bursting into giggles as their fingers clashed against each other, sending another line of discordant noises flying through the room. William hid his shame behind a toothy smile. _
> 
> _ “I’m not as good as you, Rafa, I’m sorry,” he pouted. “Plus, it’s because your melody threw off my ears. Play quieter then,” he mocked, sticking his tongue out at his brother. _
> 
> _ “Will, it’s the same piano,” Rafael cackled, pinching his brother’s cheeks. “And if I played quieter, you’d complain about not being able to hear my part.”  _
> 
> _ Josephine laughed, ruffling their hair. “Be a little kinder to you brother,  _ mon chiot _. I think the issue isn’t so much your playing or Will’s skill, but my hands. So perhaps I’ll leave you two for a while _ – _ ” _
> 
> _ “No!” both boys exclaimed, giggling as they dragged their mother back to the bench.  _
> 
> _ Rafael pouted, and in the whole fashion of his fifteen years said: “But  _ maman _ , don’t call me  _ chiot  _ anymore, I’m not a baby!” _
> 
> _ Josephine laughed incredulously. “Pardon? You’ll always be  _ mon chiot,  _ until the day I die!” _
> 
> _ “ _ Maman! _ ” _
> 
> _ Will giggled, thinking that there was probably nothing he wouldn’t give for his mother to call him poussin forever. _

Hesitantly, Will lifted the cover off the keys, willing a melody into his head. With a last glance to his mother, he began to play, allowing the melody to fill the room. Though his fingers were now strong and long enough for the keys, he still made mistakes, sometimes a little too excited or too worried to really pay attention to where his fingers landed. Roughly pulled from his thoughts, Will winced at the note he had skipped, causing an odd silence in the piece.

"Missed a note on the left hand, Will.”

Will paused in surprise at the delicate voice and turned to see the delicate blue of Josephine’s eyes staring back at him.

“ _ Maman _ , you’re awake,” he murmured. “Did you just call me…  _ Will _ ?” 

Josephine nodded, looking confused. “What else would I call you,  _ mon trésor _ ? That  _ is  _ the name I gave you, is it not? Have you changed your name recently?”

“No, no,” he replied quickly, settling next to his mother on the bed and wiping the tears prickling his eyes. “I just miss hearing you say it.” 

“Well, you will just have to come visit me more often, then, won’t you?” Josephine gripped her son’s hand, patting it gently with her soft hands. “Are you staying tonight? Your  _ maman  _ missed you dearly. Perhaps you’ll come running into my arms again if you have a nightmare, like that time on your birthday,” she chuckled, relishing Will’s smile. “What was it, do you remember?” 

“I believe I told you I thought a dragon was under my bed,” he chuckled, squeezing his mother’s hand in return. 

She nodded. “Ah, that’s right. You must have someone else’s arms to burrow in now,  _ mon trésor _ ,” Josephine teased. “You don’t need  _ maman  _ to sing to you anymore.” 

“Never,” replied Will, shaking his head, “I’ll  _ always _ need you to sing to me, even when I’m sixty. But… I  _ am  _ taking someone to Viscount Redcliff’s Ball.” 

Josephine’s eyes glowed gently. “That’s  _ wonderful _ , Will. Who is the lovely lady?” 

“She’s my Lieutenant,” he replied. “She got promoted when I did, maybe you saw her picture in the papers. Despite her boundless energy, I’ve found that I truly enjoy her presence. She’s a good friend.”

“Will,” she said softly, eyes glistening. “She sounds wonderful.” 

“Father doesn’t seem to agree,” he murmured, staring out the window at the silhouettes of the trees. “After that time I failed the test, he doesn’t seem to trust my judgments anymore.” 

“Darling, look at me,” she said, tugging at his hand, staring into her son’s eyes. “I think she sounds perfect for you, both as a friend or as something else, if you wish it. You don’t  _ have  _ to explain her to me. I just want you to promise me that you’ll have fun and enjoy the ball, alright? Spin her around, and maybe have a drink or two. You’ve always been so uptight whenever we used to go.”

Will nodded. “I promise. It’s her first time at the ball, too, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it for her.” 

Josephine smiled at him ruefully. “Just remember to spend some time for yourself, too.” 

“I will,  _ maman _ . I will do  _ nothing  _ but have fun,” he jested, grinning innocently at her. 

“Fantastic,” she laughed, stroking his cheek. “Well, are you going to go finish that song that you were playing before I interrupted you?” 

Will sighed, patting the wrinkled hand that rested over his jaw. “I never compared to your playing, or Rafael’s. My mistakes are always so glaringly obvious, and I forgot where I left off.” 

“And that’s a problem?” she asked, smiling gently at him. “I’ve always loved how you played. You are always so incredibly expressive, and I think that your commitment to playing what you truly  _ feel  _ makes your pieces beautiful.”

“I suppose so. I just… I feel like I’m not quite doing the song justice,” he sighed, looking at her hopefully. “It’s no longer what I wanted it to be, so I might as well start over with something else, right?”

Josephine sighed. “Tell me, sweetheart, why do you play the piano?” 

“For emotional relief, perhaps,” he shrugged, toying with their hands, chuckling mirthlessly. “I’m not quite sure, anymore. I don’t really know the reason I sit down to do many things anymore.”

“Emotions change,  _ mon poussin _ ,” she smiled at him. “They change as we acknowledge them, as we work through them. And there are no mistakes in emotion, are there?” 

“I…” Will whispered, trailing off, “I suppose not, no.” 

“So,” she grinned. “What do you say? Finish that song for me?”

Hesitantly, Will stood from the bed, still holding her hand. As he slipped it away to head toward the piano, she suddenly gripped onto his fingers, causing him to turn back in concern.

“Play… unapologetically. There are no wrong notes. This is  _ you _ ,  _ mon trésor _ , and in  _ maman’ _ s eyes, there is nothing you need to be sorry for.”

Will nodded, glancing behind him to his mother’s expectant gaze.

“I don’t know where I left off, really,” he mumbled, shifting his fingers on the keys. Then, he smiled. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

It wasn’t quite the same song anymore, not quite the same melody or the same feeling, but none of it mattered anymore.  _ Will  _ wasn’t the same man he was ten minutes ago, and it was as if a heavy blanket had been lifted off of him.

There’s beauty in the uncertainty, in the fragility of human emotion.

Like a delicate butterfly, its beauty laid in its fleeting nature, in the brief burst of color. Many choose to ignore the fragility of life, fooling themselves to think the butterfly would forever be on the branch, unconditionally. Many were scared to confront the reality that at any moment, something could vanish from their lives, never to return.

There is value in acknowledging the temporary nature of individuals that circle their lives, those who are protagonists of their own stories but pass through like commuters on the crowded sidewalk of our lifetime. It allows us to appreciate the small details, to revel in the beautiful coincidences that glitter like gold in our days and the stars that brighten our night skies. 

As Will lifted his hands off the keys, he turned to look at his mother expectantly, hoping for one of her glistening smiles.

Josephine clapped weakly. “Now, wasn’t that much bet–” she began but stopped as she keeled over, hands flying to her mouth to cover her fit of coughs. 

“ _ Maman _ ,” Will exclaimed, rushing to her side. “Are you alright, should I call for the maid?” 

She waved her hand in disapproval, holding up a finger for him to give her a minute.

“I assure you that it wasn’t because of your playing,” she joked meekly in between coughs. When she finally sat up again, she gestured for Will to hand her the handkerchief on her bedside table, dabbing at her mouth before concealing the delicate fabric in her hand. 

Unfortunately, Will hadn’t managed to get promoted to captain on weak observational skills, and when he reached for his mother’s hands, he gasped, prying her fingers open. 

“ _ Maman _ ,” he said, quickly working himself into a panic. “It’s  _ red _ . Have you told the doctor about this? Do you need medicine–” 

“Sweetheart, it’s alright,” she smiled, a little embarrassed that Will had managed to notice her attempt to hide the handkerchief. “There’s nothing much the doctors can do about it anyway, but they said that it shouldn’t affect me too much. Other than the chore of washing out the bloodstains and mucus, of course.” 

Tears welled up in Will’s eyes as he reached up to swipe at his mother’s pale lips, frantically looking for a sign, a hint,  _ anything,  _ that she was truly alright, that she was still here in front of him. 

“ _ Mon poussin _ , I’ll be alright. I promise. I’m here right now, am I not?” Josephine squeezed both of her son’s cheeks as she thumbed away the tears that had spilled over in his panicked state and pulled him into a warm hug. “Now, dry those tears. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I just…” Will murmured, burying his head into Josephine’s shoulder. “ _ Maman,  _ I’m… I’m so scared of losing you,” he said, squeezing his mother as he tried to hold in the tears in his eyes. “I’m terrified, truly. I don’t know who or  _ what  _ I’d be anymore if I wasn’t your son.” 

Josephine sighed, gently stroking down his spine. “But sweetheart, you’ll  _ always  _ be  _ maman’ _ s son,” she pulled back to look at his teary eyes. “Even when I am no longer here to hold you or to sing you a lullaby, you will  _ always  _ be my little boy, don’t you ever forget that.”

Tears flowed steadily down Will’s face, and he tried unsuccessfully to stop them. “I don’t want you to leave,” he admitted with a watery chuckle, “I don’t want to leave you. Sometimes I wish I’d be able to stay here with you forever.” He paused, looking towards the ceiling with a hesitant smile. “Is that selfish of me? To wish that you’d always be here to play a song with me or to hold me?” 

Josephine shook her head, holding his fingers gently. “Perhaps. But it is alright to be selfish, sometimes,” she noted. “You don’t have to leave,  _ mon trésor _ , and if you do, you’ll come back, will you not?” 

Will nodded, gripping desperately at his mother’s hands, trying to look anywhere but her eyes, so glittering and so blue, reminiscent of a still pond. “But… will you remember me then?” 

She smiled sadly, softly caressing his golden curls bathed in moonlight. “I don’t know, but there is always today. Stay with  _ maman,  _ at least for tonight?”

“Of course,” he nodded, comforted by the stillness of the room and the familiarity of its dim light and citrusy smell of his mother’s perfume, still somewhere under her medicine.

“ _ Maman _ ,” he began, turning to her with a childlike smile on his face. “Would you play a song with me?”

Josephine stared at him before chuckling, slowly shifting her feet into the slippers at her bedside. Patting her son’s forearm for assistance, she said: “I thought you might never ask.”

And perhaps in that moment, everything was alright. Ignorance was bliss, and Will could be a fool unplagued by the fleetingness of the butterfly, simply admiring its beauty while it was in front of him, frail and delicate on her branch, but so very colorful and so very  _ alive _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Giggle! We all love a boy who loves his _maman_ , don't we <3
> 
> For the longest time, we've been very excited to write this chapter. Or, well, Will's scenes, to be more specific. We hope you found them as enjoyable as we did writing them, because we all love our troubled Captain, don't we? William Hawkes deserves this world and the three next ones, I rest my case.
> 
> At some point someone said something along the lines "You guys saved us the old annoying men by killing off Hermann and not bringing forth Stefan" and we were like "Well, let me disappoint you there" XD Sorry guys, you have to deal with at least one of them. It's the rule AHAHAHA
> 
> Multiple of you have, at some point as well, pointed out that since Lauren didn't mess up her reputation here that she probably was still fitting for Stefan's expectations and that he would try to set Lauren and Will up... And you guys were right, as demonstrated in this chapter HAHAHA As we've seen in this chapter he did, in fact, try to set them together, but it didn't work out the way he wanted apparently. No, Lauren doesn't know. Yes, Will found out accidentally, and Stefan wasn't happy about that.
> 
> _Also, fun times with Lauren and Kym in a shopping spree? More likely than you think._
> 
> We hope we got you in the feels with Will and Josephine. Waters insisted on writing that part and was **ascending** (her words, not mine). Fun fact: she said she didn't want it if the eyes weren't watery after, sooOoOo 
> 
> Lady Nyra Liem is in fact another cameo! Perhaps some of you imagine who this is: our lovely, wonderful sister [Heathersky](https://www.instagram.com/heathersky.333/). Much love Heather, we hope we met your expectations with the writing of Nyra and her atelier! (and if we didn't get something right, _we're so sorry_ )
> 
> (To the ones who theorized what colors Kywi and Lauki would wear at the Ball... We love you and sorry ahahaha)
> 
> Also, you guys are insane we're nearly at 6K hits what-
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! We hope you enjoyed the chapter, please let us know what you think! Comments, kudos, bookmarks, and any kind of love are very much appreciated <3


	24. Grand Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “I like doing it for the same reason golden viper is my favorite poison, Kieran,” she hid her grin behind her flute of champagne. “It’s a short show, but highly entertaining, and more beneficial than you think.”
>> 
>> “Serpent,” Kieran grumbled, and Belladonna laughed.
>> 
>> “Proudly so, flower boy. I don’t tell myself I’m something I’m not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! We have a [soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hz8YKEnCXYk&feature=youtu.be) for you this chapter. Please start it at the beginning (right now, basically :))

The falsity of these events was simply  _ unbearable_ . 

The perfectly tailored smiles and obligatory pleasantries that seemed almost  _ normal  _ somehow infuriated Kieran and only increased his dislike towards the  _ grande fête annuel _ . He simply found it ludicrous that he was expected to express interest in whichever Family’s daughter was getting married in two months or the Sparrows’ advisor’s new son, and he was even less inclined to hear about the new imports the White Dragons had managed to sneak in with the help of an influential noble they had roped into their shady business. Kieran wasn’t sure if he hated it more when other people feigned interest in his career. The Reapers only cared because he was an asset to serve their interests, but he was well aware that others only asked to try to get into the good graces of the Reaper family. He didn’t feel the need to put on a show like some kind of circus animal after the third dance with a nameless lady, so he stepped aside in favor of leaning against one of the pillars that lined the room, reveling in the comfort of the quiet shadows.

The preferred venue of the Annual Grand Gathering had always been the Camora, an underground ballroom lined with pillars, chandeliers illuminating the grey and black decorations that draped across the room. The white tiles on the floor were always polished to a gleam, resembling ivory mirrors. Kieran always wondered if one of the reasons the Gathering was always black tie was so nobody would be able to look up the women’s skirts. For all their pompous declarations of chivalry, he wouldn’t put it past the heathens that called themselves gentlemen. 

He had always considered the Camora a ballroom for ghosts, painted in dull greyscale with its candlelight bouncing off the surfaces in cold tones. He hated the place, not only because it was the same exact ballroom he was forced to visit annually since he was fourteen but also for the very simple reason that it had no windows. And was  _ underground _ .

Saying he was uncomfortable would be an understatement, but still, he stood straight. Kieran wore black and sangria, fitting in with the room  _ just  _ enough to disguise himself in the shadows of the pillars to wait for the clock to strike twelve so he could  _ finally  _ leave the event.

Tragically, his plan to stay hidden until the end of the night was shattered the moment gold satin drifted toward him, and he had to restrain himself from groaning as he turned to face Belladonna. She hadn’t ever been one to wear large ball gowns like some of the daughters of the other Families, and the glittering satin cascaded down her figure like a column. The collar wrapped around her neck like unforgiving boas, pinned in place at her chest with the unmistakable Viper Family brooch: a masterpiece of gold vipers and the fragment of an emerald, a bold signifier of the Leader of the den of snakes dressed in aureate.

“Good evening,  _ esquire White _ ,” she purred mockingly, stopping before him with a decisive click of her heels. “How are you liking the party?”

Kieran smiled back politely, trained for thirteen years in the art of pretending he cared. “Same as always, Bella.”

She looked around the room for a split second before focusing back on his face, her eyes twinkling with ill-intention. “I imagined you’d feel a little more  _ caged _ , but I guess I was wrong. You seem to be faring well  _ down here _ .”

Kieran took a moment to remind himself of the type of person he was dealing with before replying: “It’s nothing I’m not used to, Bella, simple as that.”

“Hm,” she hummed in response, clearly unsatisfied with his words before her smile returned and she whirled the champagne flute on her hand, observing the way the drink threatened to spill from its edges. “How is the investigation for that little girls’ death going? Do you have anything interesting to tell me?”

Kieran scowled at her. “You put my friend at grave risk for doing that, you know. Everyone has his eyes on him now.”

“Did I? _ I’m truly sorry. _ ”

If he had allowed Lauren to follow him here, he was certain she would’ve heard that as a lie. 

She had called him to inform him that she’d be wearing a dark blue dress for the ball (although she had been incapable of telling him a specific shade, other than just “very dark”) and had also informed him that they’d be holding dancing lessons for Kym at his place, less of a request than an order. She’d also announced that they would be practicing the opening committee’s choreography so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in the general rehearsal. Taking advantage of her seemingly bright mood, he had also informed her of the Annual Grand Gathering, which she had demanded to be brought to. Though there was rarely an occasion for him to deny her something, he had made it very clear that she was  _ not _ , under  _ any  _ circumstances, attending the  _ grande fête annuel _ . He was certain of one thing: he didn’t want Lauren Sinclair anywhere remotely near these wretched people.

Still, she asked to know immediately everything he could find out that would be useful for their investigation, and so he had dropped the extra set of keys to his apartment in her hands and told her to wait for him to arrive sometime after midnight and let herself in if he wasn’t already home.

Kieran glanced at the clock. Knowing her, she probably was too eager and would’ve already made herself comfortable in his apartment. Not that he minded. Better cozy in a pile of blankets by the fireplace than freezing outside with her beach crab cold tolerance.

Bella brought him back to reality with a click of her tongue. He could’ve swore at the end it sounded like a hiss, but he attributed that to his imagination.

“However, please do send my congratulations to him and his wife. I’m sure their baby will be  _ adorable _ .”

Kieran snarled, taking a menacing step closer to her. “How did you know about that?”

Bella snickered. “Kieran, must I remind you that you work surrounded by associates of these Families?” she twirled a perfectly manicured nail in the air, gesturing at the general room. “I’m sure every Family here knows the amazing news, flower boy. You are not exactly unpopular. Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone would dare to harm a  _ fragile _ ,  _ expecting woman _ , would they?”

Kieran got another step closer to her and she took one back, dancing with him, her finger poised between the two of them as she tutted. “ _ Bad boy _ . Don’t you remember this is neutral ground tonight, Kieran? You wouldn’t want to cause a scene, would you?”

Kieran inhaled sharply, stepping back to his spot against the pillar, assuring himself that it wasn’t surprising that news of Lila’s pregnancy had already gotten out. The weekend they had told him and their friends, they had told their parents, and had subsequently stopped hiding it. Nearly everyone at the firm had dropped what they were doing to congratulate Lila the following Monday when she had waltzed in without the baggy clothes they had grown accustomed to seeing her in. That morning, she walked in with a more fitted dress that proudly displayed her belly, however small for a woman twenty weeks pregnant, and everyone gushed at the good news. Someone must have told Bella about it after.

“You must find it amusing, threatening people like this.”

“I like doing it for the same reason golden viper is my favorite poison, Kieran,” she hid her grin behind her flute of champagne. “It’s a short show, but highly entertaining, and more beneficial than you think.”

“ _ Serpent _ ,” Kieran grumbled, and Belladonna laughed.

“Proudly so, flower boy. I don’t tell myself I’m something I’m not,” her eyes lit up. “Which reminds me! Congratulations on winning the case against that Sinclair girl, _ Beyond _ . As far as I know, she was invincible until she confronted you.”

Kieran tensed at the mention of her name. “Thank you. Do you keep your eye on me?”

“Of course I do,” she scraped his lapel with her nails. “You are one interesting character, and it’d be a pity for me to not track what would be an amazing weapon in my arsenal. But that’s not the only reason, I suppose. I knew she was invincible because I kept tabs on her too, although not as closely as I do for you. Her record is truly impressive.”

Kieran froze.

“ _ What? _ ”

“Truly a shame you never accepted my offer, Kieran. You would’ve made an amazing Viper,” she leaned closer, and he caught a wisp of her perfume. Something cold, breezy, like saltwater or the surroundings of a lake, with the unmistakable aftertaste of cigarettes. “Plus, I’m surprised you aren’t tired of this boring red that the Reapers wear,” she tutted. “Gold’s far more pretty. Anyhow, you’d truly be of  _ much  _ use, hon’. Just think about it; my offer stands. You even went against the Sinclairs,” she hummed, downing the last of her champagne. “Now isn’t  _ that  _ such a coincidence?”

_ She didn’t– _

“Wait–” he caught her wrist, pulling her closer to him again, twisted just enough so she wouldn’t see the confused frown on his face. It didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean? What  _ about _ the Sinclairs? You haven’t told me that story.”

Bella lifted both eyebrows, genuinely surprised. “I haven’t?”

Kieran shook his head, imperceptibly masking his genuine curiosity as his usual pained imitation of attention. “You know I hate incomplete tales. Indulge me..”

“Hmm…” she breathed, considering it as she took two new flutes from a passing waiter and offered one to Kieran, who took it without hesitation, taking a quick sip of the bubbly alcohol before Bella might decide to withhold the story for a perceived slight.

“Very well. I’ll tell you,” she smirked. “If anything, I think it’ll make you feel even better about your victory. We may not be allies, but we sure are friends, aren’t we? My success is your success too.”

Kieran suppressed a grimace and nodded, keeping up the grin. He wouldn’t exactly call Belladonna a friend, but she surely saw him as something much more useful than an enemy. She wouldn’t insist on her proposition so much if she didn’t.

“Do tell.”

Bella laughed slightly to herself, her eyes flitting around the gloomy ballroom as she pieced together the parts of her story.

“My father was still the Head when this happened, by the way. I can’t believe you never heard about it,” she chuckled. “Anyhow, I remember being in his office when he ordered one of his best assassins to kill the Sinclairs.”

“Really?” Kieran put on his best act of delight, sick to his stomach at the nonchalant way Bella told her story, as if she was merely telling him what she ate for lunch today. “Whatever did they do to be killed by one of the best?”

Belladonna scoffed, her hand waving. “It was all the wife’s fault– Rachel, was it? Rachel Sinclair. See, she used to be a very promising medic; she was highly talented inside our lab too, and even helped develop many of our best mixes. She had everything to succeed inside the Vipers but decided she didn’t want to stay any longer,” Belladonna rolled her eyes. “Admittedly, a foolish mistake. My father told me she managed to stay out of the Vipers’ radar for many years, she reappeared well over a decade after. She had spent her time hidden and had gotten married and had a lovely little daughter, in _ high society _ , without us realizing it.”

Lauren.  _ Lauren _ .

Bella shrugged. “She must’ve made a mistake, I guess, because they eventually found her again. Not only had she married into high society, but she also had a  _ lawyer  _ as a husband and the current District Attorney as her brother-in-law.” Bella took a sip of her champagne. “The Sinclairs are also close to the Hawkes, whose patriarch is the  _ Chief of Police _ . Hell, the girl’s godfather is the  _ King’s right-hand _ , Dakan Rhysmel. Those were too many risks we were taking if we left her alive, so my father sent an assassin to finish her, her husband, and her child as well.”

Kieran stopped breathing for a second, quickly chastising himself to remain calm.

“From what I heard, the girl wasn’t at home when the assassin got there. She was lucky, otherwise she would’ve been killed as well. Let me tell you, batrachotoxin isn’t exactly the fastest way to die, or the least painful one,” Bella stopped for a second to think, before saying: “After that, the girl moved in with her uncle, and they never displayed behavior that indicated they had any idea about Rachel, so it would be too much effort to silence mouths that had nothing to say. My father left them be, but we keep track of the Sinclair girl either way. Who knows what she may get herself up to if she wanted to avenge her dead parents. Good thing the worst she’s been doing is just beating everyone but  _ you  _ in trial,” she snickered.

Finished, Bella examined the stain left by her lipstick on the crystal. She eyed Kieran curiously.

“Why the curiosity, flower boy? Don’t tell me you’ve been charmed by that woman,” Belladonna pouted, looking disappointed as if the thought of him liking Lauren was particularly offensive for the Viper. “She’s beautiful, really, but it would be too much of a hassle. It could bring you unnecessary trouble with  _ us _ , and we wouldn’t want that.”

Kieran scoffed. “Am I not allowed to be curious? With the way you worded it, you made it sound intriguing. I had to know.”

Bella grinned. “That’s the attitude, Kieran. Keep that up and you’ll get  _ very  _ far.”

Kieran had to hold back a flinch when he heard the  _ clack  _ of a cane against the tiles, not too far away.

He turned to the source of the sound, finding the expected woman: Jovie Brenner, wearing a magnificent red gown, her hair cascading around her shoulders as she tapped that  _ godforsaken cane _ against the tile to catch his attention. Kieran caught her eyes, noting the way she maintained the sickly sweet smile on her face as she chatted with the leader of the Sparrows and the head of the Northern Cartel as she discreetly commanded him to her side. The tapping of her cane played a methodical rhythm on the tiles before a single, sugar-coated call of his name floated across the air.

“ _ Kieran _ , why don’t you come over here?”

Kieran was about to excuse himself with Bella when she grabbed his sleeve and stopped him, turning to look at Jovie with an unamused, but problematic, glint in her eyes.

“Ms. Brenner, would you mind waiting a little longer? We are having a very nice conversation here.”

Anyone close enough to the scene halted at Belladonna’s words. 

_ Not again.  _

Kieran held back a tired groan, slowly turning the glass of champagne in his hand. He was in dire need of some peace and quiet and a nice long nap, but getting either of those seemed to be almost impossible in his current circumstances, both due to his current predicament and his mission with one fiery woman and her personal vendettas.

And now, as he watched his last shred of hope for some silence in the shadows dissolve like the ghosts he thought he saw in the ballroom when he was younger, he found himself struck in the middle of a crossfire between two incredibly dangerous women who were forced to maintain neutral ground.

Not relinquishing any of her composure, Jovie excused herself with the men she was talking to, the three of them curtsying and bowing to each other in a mockery of regalness before Jovie weaved past them toward where Kieran was awaiting his impending doom. Kieran’s breath hitched with every step she took, hating the unmistakable three-beat tempo that somehow sounded even more terrifying from her. The two steps, followed by the crisp  _ clack  _ of the cane threatened to shatter his composure. He was certain it was the stilettos on her feet, hidden but glinting under the hem of her dress as her movement swept up the fabric, their own clicks amplifying the cane’s striking sound against the polished floor. It took everything for him to remain standing rather than bracing his neck and protecting his stomach.

Jovie halted before them, barely dipping as she and Bella exchanged mocking curtseys, their eyes locked in silent challenge. For the Viper, it seemed to be just one more day of fun, and the only sign of Jovie’s obvious distaste was the dangerous glimmer in her eyes.

The barely cloaked animosity really wasn’t any surprise to Kieran. It had been this way for as long as he remembered, considering how similar both women were: ambitious, clever, and quick-witted, willing to cross lines and go to extremes in order to achieve their goals. Perhaps they would make the perfect allies in a different life, but they were hell-bent on being the most dangerous pair of enemies that could quite possibly raze Ardhalis to the ground if they decided to try and fight it out. Belladonna wished for a Viper-ruled era in the depths of shadowed society, while Jovie wanted to change the way the Reapers operated. Perhaps for her own benefits, or her own motives, but Kieran had to admit that he had never seen Jovie revel in violence, pain, and destruction the way Belladonna seemed to. Ms. J found violence unnecessary, choosing to use it as her last resort at all times. She had once smirked at him and told him that she didn’t want to waste bullets and human labor when she could solve them with words alone. Belladonna, however, seemed to genuinely enjoy conflict, seemingly embracing a persona as the modern Eris of Ardhalis as she schemed about whatever devilish plan she had to use animosity and existing conflict to her advantage. Belladonna was not afraid of playing with fire to burn down the things that bothered her. One might even say that she enjoyed the way the flames illuminated her cotton-candy hair.

Currently, it seemed that what was bothering her was whatever was left of the teetering foundations of Kieran and Jovie’s truce. 

Straightening the unnoticeable wrinkles of her dress, Jovie sent Kieran a pointed glare out of the corner of her eye, causing him to discreetly slide next to her, now facing Belladonna. Jovie perched both hands on top of the ornate scythe-shaped handle, fingers tracing the gems that embedded in the glinting grip. She languidly eyed Belladonna, evidently not intimidated in the least. Despite Belladonna almost being a full head taller than her, Jovie didn’t seem to shrink at all from her gaze. One might even say that Jovie had a look of boredom as she tilted her head up to match the Viper’s stare.

“Well,” Bella began, purring at Jovie, “was that  _ really  _ necessary? I would’ve given your  _ pet  _ back to you once I was done. Plus, he seemed  _ quite  _ interested in what I had to say.” 

“Oh, really?” Jovie drawled, eyeing Kieran. “Now, what could have  _ possibly  _ been so enchanting about a reptile? Why, were you interested in buying a pair of  _ snakeskin  _ dress shoes? You’ve always seemed to prefer leather.”

Kieran rolled his eyes, placing his empty flute onto the terrified waiter’s tray as he tried to tiptoe past the trio. “No, Ms. J.” 

“Good, that’s what I  _ thought _ ,” she smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind her hair. “You know those salesmen. They’re just so  _ persistent  _ and  _ desperate _ , sometimes.” 

Bella only grinned amusedly at her. “There’s no harm in trying, is there? After all, you miss a hundred percent of the opportunities you don’t take. Better watch him,  _ Ms. J _ ,” she mocked. “You never know when he might just slip under your nose.” 

Jovie snickered, burgundy nails drumming against her cane. “I’m quite sure that there’s absolutely  _ no  _ chance of that happening, Bella. Worry not. After all, Kieran here would probably sooner  _ die  _ than to betray the Reapers and work for you. The benefits just aren’t quite the same,” she quipped. “Plus, I’m not nearly as  _ dense  _ as you might believe me to be. I’ve noticed the new dust you’ve snuck into my nightclubs,  _ my dear _ . It’s a pity that your boys died for a boss that doesn’t even miss them.”

“And  _ you’re  _ such a  _ compassionate, caring  _ leader? My, wouldn’t Mr. I be  _ so  _ disappointed to hear how much his daughter’s changed.” 

Jovie’s demeanor cooled and darkened, an air of danger washing over her. “My father’s  _ dead _ , Bella. I honestly doubt he’s hearing much of anything. Plus, if your income is so dismal that you have to utilize  _ my  _ territory, you could have just come to me.” Her white teeth glinted as she grinned at Bella. “You know I would have struck a deal with you. We’re  _ friends _ , after all, aren’t we?” 

Kieran resisted the urge to cackle. Lauren would probably blow a fuse at the lies that were currently being uttered. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem that he had done a very good job, seeing as Jovie raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Mr. White, is something terribly amusing? Why, yes, I do find the Viper’s predicament hilarious as well. Somehow they’ve managed to tank their profits  _ so  _ much that they had to come into our clubs and bars to make up for their losses.” She looked at Bella, mocking innocence. “But I’m sure that’s  _ not  _ your fault. You weren’t ever one for business. The Vipers always dismissed brains for brawn.” 

“Oh,  _ please _ . Those weren’t even your clubs. They’re on the 49th.”

“Which is ours, mind you.” 

“Since  _ when- _ ” 

Before any more snide remarks could be exchanged, a ruckus broke out somewhere behind them. Angry exclamations were bouncing through the ballroom, somehow amplified by the decorated walls. 

“And you just  _ let  _ him?” 

“What  _ was  _ I supposed to do?” the advisor of the Jackrabbits yelled, flinging his hands in the air. “He said that he wanted to buy the new ‘splosives. He’s like my  _ brother  _ for goodness sake. I’m not asking to get killed.” 

“Yeah, and you’d prefer to get killed by-” 

“What’s going on here?” Jovie asked, slamming the cane against the leg of the chair. “Could you two heathens not be civil for one night? And since when were advisors asked to  _ scream  _ their opinions? Where are Carlson and Michakes?”

Kieran winced. The Jackrabbits and Eighty-Sixers had recently solidified a business deal with the Reapers, dealing exclusively in the Family’s explosives. Evidently, Carlson, the head of the Jackrabbits, had decided that it’d be an excellent idea to source explosives from overseas outside of Jovie’s inventory.

“Please,” Michakes’ advisor pleaded. “They’re both drunk and it’s just us. I swear we had nothing to do with it, it was the-” 

“Now, Seylar,” Jovie intoned, instructing him with a glance to stop talking. “I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. Even though you agreed to go joint, I won’t punish anyone who doesn’t deserve to be,” she smiled without her eyes, directing her gaze at Verones. “Verones. I recall that you were the one who asked me  _ quite nicely  _ to sell you stock of our Family’s inventory. I trust that I won’t find  _ anything  _ sourced from someone other than me if I were to check in a week, now would I? Or do we need to meet in my office in a few days to talk this over with Carlson and Michakes?” 

“No, Ms. J,” he mumbled. “There won’t-” Verones paused, catching himself. “Pardon,  _ isn’t  _ anything in our warehouses.” 

Jovie grinned slowly, hickory eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Excellent. That’s what I like to hear. After all, you  _ do  _ have a daughter-in-law who’s expecting now, don’t you? Remind me when the baby shower is. I’ll send a gift,” she noted, patting the man’s shoulder. “Spend some more time with your family. If Michakes give you any issues, you let me know,  _ mm? _ ”

Verones nodded rapidly, raising his glass of champagne to her. Kieran internally reeled; Jovie was talented in making you question whether she was truly interested in you or if she was merely toying with you. She kept close tabs on all the Families, always knowing the weak points of each Family and the leadership within them. It chilled him to the bone as he watched her feign concern about another person’s family, words marred with the possibility that they could be a threat. 

He glanced down as his watch, silently counting down the seconds as the glinting hands met midnight.

_ Five, four, three, two- _

The clock chimed in the room, ricocheting through the ballroom. Kieran moved toward his seat, picking up his scarf from his seat at the Reaper table. 

“Well, flower boy, I take it you’re heading out, as you always do,” Bella noted, smirking at him. “I don’t blame you. Must be  _ so  _ hard being in a room with such an insufferable and manipulative woman.” 

Kieran scoffed, not believing that she could say that with a straight face.  _ Some people really can’t see their own flaws _ . 

“Good evening, Bella,” he murmured, taking a path that would allow him to walk past Jovie. He’d have hell to pay if he didn’t put up his annual show of playing Jovie’s loyal pet. 

“Ah, Kieran,” Jovie began, Seymour and Verone still murmuring small talk by her side. “Are you heading out for the night?” 

“It’s been a pleasure, but I’m afraid I have to go,” he replied, following the script that they had adhered to for so many years now. “I have a hearing tomorrow.” 

He, in fact, didn’t have a hearing. He did, however, have an audience with one of the strongest prosecutors in the city, who also happened to be his partner in this haphazard mission. 

“Of course,” she smiled, the mockery of warmth washing over him in a sickly sweet wave. “You’ve always worked so hard. Have a safe trip home.” 

Kieran nodded, quickening his pace toward the door. Lauren was probably already at his place, and she would surely raise hell if he took more than thirty minutes to get home. 

He already had to deal with breaking the news about her parents to her. Kieran didn’t need to give her another reason to despise him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, Waters here!
> 
> Well, would you look at that. Ms. J has made her appearance yet again, dressed in the classic reds of the Reaper Family. Red and champagne...they could be beautiful together, but they happen to insist on being enemies. A pity, but we wouldn't get those wonderful sparks without their long-standing rivalry. Two "Dangerous Women", just trying not to gut each other. Nothing to see here, nope. 
> 
> Kieran wants NOTHING more than to get out of there (thus the first song being "Here" by Alessia Cara)...probably to get home to his friendly neighborhood beach crab AHAHHAAHH
> 
> You've also gotten a bit of Lauren's backstory now. So guess what, her family's not nearly as...upstanding as she might've thought they were :)) Can't wait to see her reaction next chapter (we're just as excited as you probably are)
> 
> We would also like to thank you all for 6k hits and 300 kudos!! It means the world to us. Though we don't have very much for you this time around (Giggle had finals and I have...thesis things and other homework AHAHAH)
> 
> BUT: WE HAVE GIGGLE'S VERSION OF LILA IN HER WEDDING DRESS!!
> 
> We hope you love her as much as we do :))
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


	25. Unsettling Unveiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “I know about your parents.”
>> 
>> She visibly stirred, jolting back at his words. She stared at him in silent bewilderment for a second before sputtering: “ _What?_ "  
> 

K ieran had never had anyone to wait for him before.

He was still too young to be allowed to be outside without supervision when he lost everyone, and when he was under Inar’s care, he wasn’t allowed to go out until he was near adulthood. Even in the rare occasions when he did leave the house, there wasn’t anyone sitting on a chair waiting for his return, not anyone else but the guards that’d make sure he was back at a reasonable hour. There weren’t questions of where he had been or with who, just cold stares and punishments if he came “home” even a second past the established time.

He had somehow briefly managed to forget that Lauren was at his apartment on the way back from the Camora Ballroom (which was odd, considering how his thoughts would constantly return to her at the gathering), and paused in surprise in the doorway when he saw her staring at him from the living room as the keys jingled in his hand. He was certain it wasn’t his footsteps that had betrayed his arrival. They were always too silent for his liking, especially considering where he had just come from.

She had evidently found his copy of _The Secret Garden_ on the shelves, seeing as she had also found a blanket and some coffee to accompany her as she flipped through the pages on the couch. Kieran stood silently by the door, admiring the way the fire ghosted over the wood, sparks exploding every few seconds or so before absentmindedly noticing that it also meant that she had spent a considerable amount of time in his bedroom.

The simple domesticity of the scene banished whatever concern over what she’d seen in his room from his head, and he ached for a sketchbook and some charcoal so he could immortalize the half-lidded eyes as she flipped the pages lazily, the twitch of her lips when she turned to see him standing at the doorstep and, just in case it’d stop the next second, the jump of his heart when her eyes lit up and she abandoned her spot on the couch.

“You’re back,” she stated, placing the book on the coffee table.

“Obviously,” he replied, fumbling as he took off his coat, hanging it on the rack. He glanced at her. “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable. Excellent.”

“Did you find anything of interest?”

“At least let me get changed, darling.” Kieran stared at her amusedly as he undid the tie before taking off his jacket.

Lauren simply rolled her eyes as she sat back down with crossed arms. “ _Pardon me_ , Mr. White, I just have been waiting here for an _hour_.”

From behind the bookshelf, Kieran released a low laugh as he discarded the black shirt he had been wearing in favor of a cotton sweater. “I told you I’d be here around this time, and I’m only ten minutes late.”

Lauren huffed from her seat, picking at a loose thread on the blanket she had borrowed. “Well, one of us has to be eager about the task at hand. Besides, it was already past midnight and I’m sure Lucy wouldn’t let me leave the house if I tried to leave later. She’s trying to regulate my sleep.”

“As she should,” Kieran walked back into the living room, fully changed and with a tiny smirk on his lips. “There’s only so much we can do where we see you, but someone needs to send you to sleep and make you eat at home. Those eyebags are _unsightly_.”

“How _charming_ , thank you for the compliment,” Lauren scoffed, taking her cup as she approached him and settled behind him while he pulled a sachet of tea from his tea pantry. Ever the woman with _unshattering_ patience, Lauren waited for a few seconds before she breached his focused silence. “So what did you find?”

Kieran exhaled, pouring the chamomile to prepare some tea for her. He knew she wasn’t very fond of tea, but considering the way he knew the conversation was about to go, he figured that she’d like something to stabilize her nerves when he finally gave her the information he had found about her. He could already tell it wouldn’t be pleasant for her. Though they had somewhat become acquaintances, perhaps even _friends_ in the past few months, there were still professional walls that were drilled into them that they couldn’t quite bring themselves to breach. They had unspokenly agreed to not dig through the other’s past, and it pained him that he couldn’t return the courtesy she had given him.

He didn’t reply until he had placed the cup of tea between her hands, and she looked down at it with a wrinkled nose.

“Chamomile? Are you trying to make me fall asleep too?”

Kieran laughed. “No, not at all, but I think you’ll need it. This conversation might not be pleasant.”

Lauren frowned. “What did you hear?”

“Just… stay there, alright,” Kieran instructed as he poured his own cup of tea, struggling to hide his apprehension. Wrapping his hands around his cup, he breathed in slowly and forced himself to begin his report of the evening. “I’m sure you remember Belladonna Davenport well. She… Well, you could say we’re on speaking terms, of sorts. She approached me at the Grand Gathering, and she told me some things.”

“Get to the point, Kieran,” Lauren muttered before taking a sip of her tea. “ _It’s actually not that bad_ ,” she murmured, staring in appreciation at her cup before training her steady gaze on him once more.

Kieran settled gently next to her, and she shifted slightly until she was facing him head-on, their knees barely brushing against each other’s as they leaned closer to each other, hand both clasping a cup of tea as if they were children who were about to share a secret. His mind was in disarray. Kieran wondered if it was even a good idea, or a good moment, to tell her what he’d learned, but here she was, getting increasingly impatient by the second. Knowing that they would soon be far too busy with the ball, the rehearsals, and their jobs to be able to handle a potential confrontation like this, he conceded:

“I know about your parents.”

She visibly stirred, jolting back at his words. She stared at him in silent bewilderment for a second before sputtering: “ _What?_ ”

“Your parents, Rachel and Alexander Sinclair. They were assassinated by a Viper, weren’t they?” he exhaled. _It made so much sense now_. “By batrachotoxin poisoning.”

“How?” she demanded, eyes flaming.

Kieran grimaced at her reaction. “You’re not upset with me because I _know_ , are you?”

Her lips half-heartedly twisted in something akin to a scowl, which she directed to her blurry reflection on her tea. She considered his question for a moment, her fingers twitching around the green porcelain, and then she murmured:

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she massaged her forehead. “It was quite the scandal when it happened, I should’ve figured you’d find out sooner or later.”

He nudged the tea closer to her, urging her to drink, and she obeyed, taking a long gulp and allowing the warmth to soothe her.

Kieran took a sip of his cup of oolong. “Belladonna had the absolute _joy_ of telling me this, when she brought up my current ‘victory’ against the ‘Sinclair girl’, as she called you,” Kieran scoffed. “We met when I was fifteen and she was on her way to turn eighteen, and ever since she’s been offering me to leave the Reapers and go to the Vipers with her at every occasion we’ve encountered each other. She is interested in my abilities, even more after I graduated, and tonight she told me I’d make a great Viper because I went against the Sinclairs too.”

Lauren visibly tensed. “What does that even mean?” Then, a little more panicked, she nearly stood up when she grabbed his sleeve, gripping it tightly and asking: “Are they targeting my Uncle?”

Kieran lightly pushed her back into her seat, shaking his head. “I don’t know, but I highly doubt it. He’s too much of a public figure and is too well protected, it’d be complicated to do. She wasn’t saying this because of that.”

“Then why?”

“It’s about your parents,” Kieran hesitated. “Your mother, specifically.”

Lauren was at a loss, her drawn-in eyebrows furrowing her frown, and she took another gulp of tea. Kieran waited until she lowered the mug to her lap before continuing.

“The reason they were targeted… Your parents, the reason they were killed–” he gulped. “It’s because your mother, Rachel, was– She used to be a Viper, before marrying your father.”

The mug didn’t break when Lauren dropped it due to his quick reflexes, allowing him to catch the mug before it hit the hardwood floorboards. Some liquid sloshed out of the cup, which he brushed off quickly with his palms before it could steep into the dark wood. Unfortunately, his own mug tipped over at the abruptness of his movement and fell to its side with a clatter, its contents spilling. Kieran quickly righted it and placed both mugs onto the surface of the island. 

Lauren had paled, her already milky skin lightening further that Kieran was mildly worried she had skipped the task of dying and had gone directly to being a ghost. He hadn’t expected her silence, her consternated expression, and quite honestly, he would’ve preferred that she screamed and lashed out at him, called him a liar even when he had told the utmost truth, rather than the empty and defeated look on her eyes.

He was about to ask her to talk when she muttered, barely audible:

“That can’t be true.” Lauren shook her head. “That can’t be true, Kieran, my mother– You would’ve never met someone as devoted to her family as her, she couldn’t–” she stopped in her tracks, her mouth gaping as she considered his words, and then her shoulders dropped, her lips sealing. There was a hint of bitterness on her tone when she spoke next. “She _could_ , couldn’t she?”

Kieran said nothing.

Lauren’s fists closed as she lowered her head, her hair covering her features as she continued in a low voice.

“What else did she tell you?”

“A few things,” he replied. “They sent one of their best, but she didn’t tell me the name, and it was her father who sent the order, although I assume you figured that out yourself. The assassin had the order of killing you too, but you weren’t home,” he studied her, searching for a reaction, but found none other than the further tightening of her fist. If she kept that up, he was sure she would draw blood. “They didn’t go after you or your Uncle because you didn’t show signs of knowing, but still Bella’s been keeping an eye on you, but not closely, mainly on your career, just in case you ever did something reckless.”

There was a brief pause once he was finished, and she waited a second before asking:

“And did she say anything else that would be helpful for the investigation? Anyone else?”

“Well, nothing much. There were some mentions of some nobles, but–”

“But can it wait?”

“Yes, but–”

“Good,” Lauren stood up, throwing her hair out of her face and going to pick up her purse from the couch. “I have to get going, I have a hearing tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Kieran stood up and approached her, following her as she quickly put on her coat and her shoes by the door. “Are you alright?”

“That’s not something you need to burden yourself with, Mr. White,” she huffed, hastily putting on her gloves.

Kieran reached for his coat. “Let me walk you home–”

She lightly slapped his hand away from the rack. “No.”

“It’s late and you are not in your right mind, Lauren–”

She glared at him, yanking the door open with more strength than probably intended but didn’t care enough to mind. “I said _no_ , _thank you very much_. I can get home on my own.” she glanced at the puddle dripping down the counter and forming a second puddle on the hardwood. “Sorry for the mess. Goodnight.”

She was outside before he got the chance of blurting another word, the door slamming shut behind her, the only proof of her presence in his apartment being the mess in the kitchen, the discarded blanket, and _The Secret Garden_ , still sitting innocently on the coffee table.

* * *

Lauren stalked through the chilled, snowy night, somehow not freezing out of sheer angry defiance. The temperature did nothing for her frustration, and the clang of the metal gate behind her as she bolted toward the door announced her presence abruptly. Though the Manor slept, she had seen the dim light of her uncle’s office window, where he was likely hypocritically working late and sacrificing sleep. For all his nagging for her to eat more healthily and sleep more, he happened to not care quite as much when it came to his own wellbeing.

She dashed up the stairs as quietly as she could, making the way down the halls to her uncle’s office with her hands still gripped into tight fists. It was absolutely _stupid_ for her to not have seen what had been right before her eyes all this time, and the betrayal of the whole thing was nearly enough to make her lose the last shred of her composure, but first, she needed to know–

First, she had to talk to Tristan Sinclair.

She pushed the doors open, finding her uncle just as she had expected him: sitting behind a desk, his posture perfect despite the undeniably long hours he had probably spent there, always the diligent worker he had taught her to be. There sat the man who took her in after she lost her loved ones, who raised her with love and care even with her pains, her nightmares, and fears; who loved her like he would love his own child.

“Did you know?”

Tristan looked up at her with surprise, analyzing her tense posture and stoic face as she tried her best to suppress her anger.

He didn’t falter. “What did I have to know?”

She clenched her teeth. “About my mother! Did you _know_ , Uncle Tristan?”

There was a heartbeat of silence before Tristan set down his pen, slowly standing up and matching her gaze, the soothing caramel to her fiery gold. He looked composed, but she knew him, she knew her Uncle like the back of her hand, knew the arms that held her every year after they returned from the cemetery and the eyes that’d always lit up when he saw her enjoy herself at social events. She knew his hands, knew the folds of his slow aging, that’d lift her chin in hopes of catching a glimpse of her parents. She knew the voice who told her to _be strong, little Ren_.

She knew when he was panicked, and right now, he was.

His voice was steady. “Who have you been talking to, Ren?”

The truth hit her like a bucket of cold water.

Of course, he knew.

“So it’s true,” she muttered, and her next words were almost a yell: “ _You knew!_ You knew all this time and saw me chasing after a hopeless case for _thirteen years_ and– And didn’t ever consider that telling me so I could have some closure would be _nice?_ That I deserved to know the truth about my own _mother_?”

“Rachel begged me to not tell anyone,” Tristan said. “Not even Alexander knew.”

“Not even dad knew?” Lauren exhaled, bracing herself against the back of a chair, desperate for something to help her hold back her fury. “They were married for _over fourteen years_ and he didn’t know?”

“Rachel did not want anyone to find out about this. I just happened to be assigned to the right case and dig in the right places,” he gestured to the chair Lauren was leaning on, his face expressionless as he dug through the filing cabinet of his brain, and she sat down with an indignant huff, bunching up the fabric of her trousers with shaking fists. Tristan sat behind the desk. He sighed. “Of course, when I found out I confronted her about it immediately. She worked in their lab and developed many drugs in the past, but had managed to leave shortly after she met Alexander at the plaza,” Tristan shrugged. “At least that’s what she told me.”

“For how long did you know?” Lauren hissed.

“Not for long before they were killed,” Tristan crossed his hands in front of him, his thumbs wriggling nervously as he kept talking. “Probably a few months, I can’t recall the exact date. I told her she’d have to tell Alexander eventually and she tried multiple times but this wasn’t a past Rachel was proud of and it wasn’t easy to talk about it for her. Your mother was incredibly smart and had worked hard to bury that. She loved you and she loved your father. That much was true, and I let her decide the day she would tell him.”

Lauren’s grip on her clothes tightened. She refused to acknowledge the burning sensation prickling her eyes and pretended her voice didn’t waver when she jumped to her feet, looming over the desk and nearly yelling in Tristan’s face:

“ _Thirteen years!_ ” she cried. “They have been dead for _thirteen years!_ I spent all that time slaving away so one day, _one day_ , I could _finally_ find out why it happened and understand. I wanted to know _why_ for thirteen years and you knew all that time and you said _nothing_!” she furiously wiped away the tears that had squeaked through. “You had the nerve to withhold this information from me and on top of that _console me_ every time I had a nightmare about them!”

“Ren–”

“ _What for?_ ” she heard the footsteps approaching, somewhere at the end of the corridor. Lucy. She continued screeching. “What for, uncle?”

Tristan didn’t lower his head, not even when she screamed at him. He was good at his job, and he stood perfectly straight and was impossibly calm. However, she could tell his mind was a mess. He was probably heartbroken, too, for the way she talked to him, but a bitter part of her told her it was only fair. He didn’t have the benefit of her compassion, not when she felt so betrayed.

Still, she lowered her tone.

“What for?”

Tristan’s lips twisted in distress.

“I didn’t want to ruin the image you had of them. Of her.”

She couldn’t help it: she laughed. It wasn’t amusing, not at all, not when she was infuriated, but still, she laughed harsh and bitter cackles, and she heard the door of the office open slowly, the figure of a woman present in the shadow that materialized by Lauren’s side.

Lauren crossed her arms, still chuckling, and leaned closer to Tristan.

“You only managed to ruin the one I had of you.”

She decided to ignore the dampness that welled up in her Uncle’s eyes and the tiny gasp she heard behind her.

Lauren snatched her purse from the floor. In her haste, she hadn’t even taken off her shoes or her coat, not even her gloves. She wiped her eyes of all tears, braced herself for the headache she could see approaching on the horizon and looked at her uncle again, who had taken off his glasses and rubbed his pointer fingers on his eyes. She didn’t want to feel bad for that, but the pang in her chest still existed.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “So much for truth and justice.”

She left at that, ignoring Lucy’s calls as she briskly walked back where she came from, ignoring the maids she had definitely woken up in her outburst and she was out of the house before anyone could get a word in. No one tried to stop her, anyway. She didn’t know where she was going exactly, but all she knew was that she wasn’t feeling like staying in the Manor tonight.

Soon, she found herself in front of a green door, knocking before she could think twice.

It took a little while of knocking before she heard someone approaching the door, and she was greeted by the concerned face of Mrs. Ladell, her husband behind her, and Kym walking down the stairs still half asleep. The three of them gasped in tandem at her.

“ _Lauren?_ ”

“Oh dear, what are you doing out here this late?” Mrs. Ladell took her hands and pulled her in, closing the door behind them and yelping in contact with her fingers. “Honey, you’re freezing!”

“I’ll bring her something warm,” Mr. Ladell declared, disappearing into the living room as Kym nearly leaped the remaining steps of the staircase. 

“I’m sorry to bother you–”

“You’re not,” Kym was by her side in a blink, dusting off the snow that had gotten trapped on her hair. She hadn’t realized the snow had increased on her way. Honestly, she barely remembered the walk. Kym grabbed her hands and quickly rubbed them, trying to give her some warmth as Mr. Ladell returned with a quilt and Mrs. Ladell helped her get her successfully soaked coat off.

Kym was looking at her in the eye. “What is wrong?”

Lauren opened her mouth and closed it again. She tried to say something, anything, maybe a simple “I had a fight with my uncle” would suffice, but the words got stuck in her throat and she felt she was going to choke with them before the hypothermia got to her. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to explain anything to anyone. She wasn’t even sure what in the world had brought her to her best friend’s house at– _nearly three a.m_ , she noticed with a jolt. She just knew she didn’t want to be home, and her body had brought her here on its own.

Mrs. Ladell was wringing water out Lauren’s hair when she finally spoke.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

There was one thing she appreciated from Kym Ladell (she appreciated a lot of things about Kym, but this was one of the most important ones): she knew, just by looking at you, when not to press a subject. She was a merciless tease and the best nagger Lauren had ever met, but it took her a _single_ look at someone’s eyes to understand when was the time to stop asking or to never ask something at all. She’d comfort you, tell you some wise words, or make you laugh until you forgot your problems, but she never asked.

Kym wrapped the quilt tighter around Lauren’s body and nodded with a small smile.

“Always. Let’s get you changed into something that is not _sopping wet_.”

“Take her upstairs, I’ll prepare some tea,” Mrs. Ladell didn’t waste time making her way to the kitchen, pulling the shawl she was wearing over her nightgown tighter around her.

“Is there anything you need?” Mr. Ladell asked. “Do you want me to pick up something for you, from your house, maybe?”

Lauren shook her head. “No, thank you, sir.”

He nodded, patting his daughter’s shoulder as he made his way in the direction his wife had left, leaving them alone. Kym turned her whole attention back to Lauren, guiding her upstairs.

“Weren’t you meeting with Kieran tonight?”

Lauren nodded weakly. “I left a long time ago. It doesn’t have to do with him.”

In a way, it did, but she wasn’t sure if she should tell Kym that. She didn’t want to explain the past three hours to anyone, not in that moment, so she simply let herself be guided into Kym’s room, where she began shaking off her clothes as Kym dug through the drawers for a change of clothes.

“Well, I’m happy he doesn’t have anything to do with this, then,” she offered Lauren a set of pajamas. “I’m taking a page off Lukas’ book: I would’ve requested him as my shooting range target for that.”

Lauren chuckled at her words.

She was glad Kym was always there for her. She was simply the best friend Lauren could’ve ever asked for. Kym kept her entertained as they enjoyed the tea and biscuits Mrs. Ladell brought them, cackling quietly next to Lauren when they decided that making a pillow fort was a good idea (because this was _totally_ a sleepover and they had to go all out). When they finally squeezed into Kym’s bed, still murmuring and gossiping in their sleep, they wrapped their arms around each other, enjoying the other’s company.

They barely got two hours of sleep, and yet, she didn’t ask a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs for cover* IT'S NECESSARY I SWEAR-
> 
> I wonder how many of you remember the conversation March and Tristan had in Ch. 15, or if anyone suspected this from last chapter. Again, we have left clues everywhere for all of you, you just have to keep your eyes open ;))) Yes, Tristan always knew. Yes, he willingly kept it from Lauren. Don't go too hard on him, he tried his best T.T
> 
> Kieran knew Lauren wouldn't react well to the news, but he surely expected more of a reaction. Oh if only he'd seen her at the Sinclair Manor. Boi just wanted to make sure she didn't do something reckless, you know, like not staying home for the night. As always, Lauren continues to totally neglect her own health by walking through snowfall from the Silverado building to the Sinclair Manor and then to the Ladells. Honey, please, if you don't catch a cold by the end of this Arc everyone is going to be surprised. A hypothermia will kill her before the plot does.
> 
> And as always Kym continues to be the best. In this house, we love and appreciate Kym Ladell and how she is such a great and supportive friend. I love Kym's parents you just KNOW they are amazing to have a daughter like Kym. I want to know their names so bad omg.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3 We'll be expecting your thoughts if you want to give them, they are always greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading _The Moonlighters_! We hope you stick with us for this wild ride of murder, glamourous buildings, and secrets. 
> 
> Reminder: Despite extensive research, this may not be entirely accurate, so please excuse any discrepancies!
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